iHift  SItbrarg 

of  tl|0 


(Etxlltttwn  0f  Nortli  Cdarnltntatta 

CB 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  I 


00013563084 


THIS  TITLE  HAS  BEEN  MiCROFiUvlEO 
This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WE 

ONLY,    and    is    subject    to    a    fine    of    I 

CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  ^Il  wan-talrgfrgi 

the  day .  iadieafeed  below : 


f^OV  2  2    1g4|3  .JUL  2  4  195^ 


AUG  2M9&t-- 


AUG  i  8  1C95 


S^^^y^N 


AT   "OBIOGKAPHT 


^ 


AND 


X  o  csm  .A.  X* 


OF 


RE?.  JOSEPH  CALDWELL,  D.  D.,  LLD.. 


FIRST  PRESIDENT 


OF  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA. 


-- ♦«  -«B^  ■»♦- 


:f 


By  ord*i  of  tile  Bditors  of  the  University  inasrasine  for  l85J)-'60. 


-♦-♦■>  ^p    I  » 


CHAPEL    HILL: 
JOHN  B.  NEATHERY,  PRINTER. 


1860. 


^^^^^ 


S^N-Q- 


ja.XJTO^IQXOa-ZEtja.DPJEaiY 


OF 


REf.  JOSEPH  CALDWELL,  D.  D 


(L .  c- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


The  Edict  of  Nantes  was  revoked  by  Louis  XI Y  ahotit  the  year  1684. 
The  well  known  consequence  was  that  500,000  French  Protestants  left 
their  country  to  look  after  settlements  among  other  nations,  and  in  other 
parts  of  the  world,  where  they  might  enjoy  the  rights  of  conscience, 
and  the  same  immunities  and  prospects  for  themselves  and  their  families 
as  were  common  to  other  subjects  or  citizens  of  the  governments  under 
which  they  should  live.  One  of  these  emigrant  families  was  that  of  Level. 
They  first  passed  from  France  into  England,  and  continued  there  for  some 
time,  in  the  etsercise  of  manufacturing  skill.  At  that  period,  the  colonies 
of  America,  now  known  as  the  United  States,  were  fast  filling  up  from 
difierent  parts  of  the  British  empire,  and  Europe.  The  head  of  this  Lovel 
family  did  not  continue  very  long  in  the  vicinage  of  London,  before  he 
concluded  to  transplant  himself  with  such  capital  as  he  possessed,  which, 
it  would  seem,  was  not  insignificant,  to  a  spot  which  he  selected  on  Long 
Island,  towards  it  western  extremity,  and  not  far  from  Hempsted  Plains, 
and  near  Oyster  Bay.  Here  he  purchased  an  extensive  farm.  The  land 
was  of  good  (quality,  and  being  faithfully  cultivated,  yielded  annually  an 
abundance  for  the  necessaries  and  comforts,  and  all  that  was  desired 
beyond  these  for  the  enjoyments  and  respectability  of  people  who  classed 
with  the  substantial  mediocrity  of  the  country.  With  what  total  abstrac- 
tion and  absorbing  interest  did  my  good  old  grandmother,  when  I  was  a 
boy  of  twelve,  sit  and  pass  in  review  through  the  details  of  her  early  years, 
while  she  was  growing  up  under  the  fostering  guidance  of  her  venerable 
parent.  He  v/as,  it  would  seem,  of  mellowed  aff"ections  and  patriarchal 
habits.     I  shall  give  a  specimen  of  one  of  these  conversations : 

Grandmother.  My  father  was  considered  a  man  of  strong  mind. 
His  person  was  large,  his  expression  tempered  of  gravity,  affection  and  truth, 
on  which  the  eye  rested  wdth  confidence.  He  w^as  often  cheerful  in  aspect 
and  intercourse,  but  he  was  always  under  the  chastening  influence  of  piety. 
He  had  learned  to  understand  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel  through  the  stern 
constructions  of  Puritanism,  as  it  has  been  distinctively  called  in  England. 
In  France,  people  of  this  description  went  under  the  name  of  Huguenots. 

CIrand.sgx.  Huguenots!  That's  a  strange  name.  Why  were  they 
called  Huguenots?  What  is  the  meaning  of  if:*  i  .suppot<c  it  i.?  some 
nickname,  by  the  sound  of  it. 


Grandmother.  It  probably  was.  But  I  do  not  know  its  origin  or 
its  meaning.  They  were  persecuted  so  cruelly  tliat  they  escaped  out  of 
France  by  thousands^  to  find  subsistence  and  settlements  as  they  might  in 
other  countries.  3Iy  father  and  his  connexions  got  to  the  sea  coast  and 
went  over  into  England.  They  were  people  of  property.  Some  made  pur- 
chases of  houses  in  London,  where  they  died  without  heirs.  We  were 
told  of  this  some  time  afterwards,  and  might  have  inherited  the  property, 
but  my  father  was  either  unable  or  too  regardless  of  the  matter  to  attend 
to  it,  and  time  ran  on  until  by  the  statute  of  limitation  the  claim  was  barred. 
Some  have  said  that  even  now,  if  the  claim  could  be  clearly  substantiated 
and  conducted  through  the  forms  of  kw,  a  large  number  of  houses  once 
belonging  to  my  uncle  might  possibly  be  recovered  by  our  family,  and  if 
they  could,  we  should  all  be  rich  enough. 

At  this  I  remember  that  my  little  heart  bounded,  and  I  became  full  of 
inquiries. 

Grandsox.  AVell,  Grandmother,  why  canjiot  tliat  be  tried?  Is  it  not 
worth  while?  You  say  it  was  a  vast  property,  how  may  houses  were  there 
;^id  to  be  ? 

Grandmother.  I  have  heard  of  a  considerable  number.  My  uncle 
T^  as  a  bachelor,  and  is  said  to  have  ovrned  a  whole  side  of  a  scjuare,  consist- 
ing of  valuable  buildings. 

Grandson.  Has  any  attempt  ever  been  made  to  recover  the  property  ? 
If  not,  would  it  not  be  well  to  make  a  trial  at  least,  and,  if  it  should  fail, 
we  should  but  be  vv^here  we  are. 

Gr.andmother.  Yes,  my  child,  if  there  were  anybody  to  do  it.  But 
it  would  imply  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  time,  and  expense,  and  it  has 
been  thought  best  to  give  it  all  up. 

This  was  a.  theme  on  which  1  delighted  to  dwell,  with  the  fond  idea  that 
if  all  that  pro]>erty  could  be  reclaimed,  it  would  be  the  consummation  of 
our  good  fortune. 

Grandmother.  After  my  father's  emigration  to  this  country  with  his 
family,  he  brought  up  his  children  to  the  habits  of  industry,  piety,  and 
economy.  But  though  he  held  the  reins  of  domestic  government  with  a 
steady  hand,  a  spirit  of  harmony  and  aflection  was  constantly  diffused 
through  all  our  feelings.  We  stood  in  awe  of  our  father,  and  feared  to 
transgress,  but  it  was  accumpanied  with  such  a  confidence  as  to  strengthen 
and  deepen  our  love  for  him,  aud  was  attended  with  a  prompt  and  willing 
acquiescence  in  his  wishes.  Our  mother,  too,  seemed  to  look  up  to  him 
with  such  deference  to  his  opinions  and  wishes  as  showed  that  she  felt  liini 
io  be  her  guide  and  protector  as  well  as  the  partner  of  her  bosom.  One 
^'iDgularity  that  marked  his  feelings  ami  opinions  was  that  he  never  suffered 
."rient  to  be  eaten  in  lii^  llunilv. 


(tRANDSON.  Not  eat  meat!  That  is  strange.  I  never  heard  of  anj 
body  that  never  eat  meat.     What  reason  could  he  have  for  not  eating  meat? 

Grandmother.  He  was  wont  to  tell  us  that  the  grant  to  live  upon 
the  tlcsli  of  animals  was  certainly  in  the  scriptures.  But  he  considered  it 
to  have  been  made  in  consequence  of  the  fall  of  man.  Hence,  he  deduced 
that  to  abstain  from  it  was  more  in  conformity  with  original  innocence  and 
perfection,  than  was  the  practice  of  subsisting  upon  it.  He  never  permitted 
an  animal  to  be  slaughtered  for  his  own  use  or  that  of  his  family.  Ho 
always  had  large  and  luxuriant  pastures,  kept  numbers  of  cattle  and  such 
other  animals  as  could  be  useful  to  him  upon  his  own  principles,  provided 
plentifully  for  their  sustenance  and  shelter,  had  an  abundance  of  milk, 
butter,  eheese  and  fruits,  wheat,  corn,  and  vegetables.  In  short,  all  around 
him,  both  in  the  house  and  in  the  field,  was  in  the  best  condition. 

Grandson.  But,  if  he  sold  one  of  these  animals  to  be  killed  by  another 
person,  would  not  that  be  much  the  same  thing  as  killing  it  himself? 

Grandmother.  So  he  felt,  and  he  never  would  consent  to  sell  one 
if  he  knew  it  was  to  be  slaughtered.  Some  animals  we  keep  now  without 
ever  thinking  of  killing  them  for  food,  such  as  horses,  dogs,  cats.  He 
put  all  upon  the  same  footing. 

Grandson.  But,  Grandmother,  you  eat  meat  now,  and  your  family 
were  all  brought  up  to  it. 

Grandmother.  Yes,  but  I  never  tasted  it  till  I  was  married,  at  21 
yeai-s  of  age.  Your  Grandfather  had  no  such  opinions  and  habits,  and  I 
fell  in  with  his  customs  and  those  of  his  family.  To  the  present  day, 
however,  I  care  very  little  for  meat.  My  father  and  all  his  family  were 
thought  as  healthy  as  any  people  in  the  country,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  as  much.  We  were  apt  to  be  esteemed  peculiarly  happy  among 
our  neighbors — always  harmonious,  plain  in  our  manners,  affectionate, 
looking  up  to  our  parents  with  veneration  and  love,  and  prompt  acqiiiescenco 
in  their  wishes.  We  were  taught  to  be  scrupulous  in  the  economy  of 
time,  and  to  feel  unhappy  unless  we  were  busy  about  something  useful. 
We  had  a  family  library  and  were  educated  to  an  enlargement  of  the  mind, 
by  reading  and  improving  conversation.  My  father  was  careful  in  direct- 
ing the  habits,  dispositions  and  intelligence  of  his  children.  Their  inge- 
nuity was  continually  called  out  for  the  accomplishment  of  such  work  as 
was  assigned  to  them.  If  a  difficulty  occurred,  the  answer  to  an  application 
for  aid  was,  '^Xow  try  your  skill.  Is  there  no  way  you  can  contrive  for 
effecting  what  you  want?  The  greatest  advantage  in  your  doing  that,  is 
in  finding  out  the  best  method."  This  would  interest  us  in  our  work,  and 
if  we  succeeded,  we  were  applauded  and  encouraged,  and  this  gave  us 
fresli  heart  for  our  occupation. 

Grandson-     Why,  Grandmother,  you  seem  to  have  been  very  happy 


6 

Grandmother,  We  wei-^  usually  so.  My  father  was  fond  of  sacred 
music.  He  brought  over  an  organ  with  him,  and  kept  it  in  his  family. 
He  could  play  upon  it  himself  and  sang  well — at  least  we  thought  so. 
Most  of  my  brothers  and  sisters  learned  from  him  in  succession  as  they 
grew  up.  At  the  hour  of  morning  and  evening  prayers,  the  family  all 
assembled  in  the  room  where  it  was  kept,  and  united  their  voices  with  its 
elevating  tones  in  praising  Ood.  It  is  the  very  same  organ  which  your 
uncle  John  Level  has  in  his  house,  and  on  which  you  have  heard  his 
sisters  play,  who  are  now  living  with  him. 

Such  weiNB  the  accounts  which  my  kind  grandmother  would  detail  to  me 
of  old  Mr.  John  Lovel,  her  father,  and  his  peculiar  habits,  opinions,  and 
mode  of  life  in  his  family.  It  can  scarcely  be  supposed  that  I  am  profess- 
ing to  describe  these  things  in  the  expressions  used  at  the  time.  In  the 
course  of  my  boyhood,  they  were  renewed  at  different  times.  They  were 
subjects  on  which  I  delighted  to  hear  her  converse,  and  they  made  in- 
delible impressions  upon  me.  The  circumstances  and  events  have  been 
here  given  in  such  terms  as  have  occurred. 

As  there  is  something  curious  in  the  events  of  this  family,  I  shall  go  on 
to  mention  f^ome  of  them  as  they  arise  in  my  memory.  One  of  my  grand- 
aunts  married  a  man  by  the  name  of  Wright.  They  lived  in  Philadelphia, 
unhappily,  I  was  told,  for  he  became  a  sot,  and  she  was  a  woman  whose 
pride,  it  would  seem,  was  not  a  little  towering.  When  she  saw  her  hus- 
band thus  degrading  raid  brutalizing  himself,  she  felt  the  mortifying 
effects  in  all  their  force.  After  his  death,  she  resolved  to  continue  ]io 
longer  in  the  city,  and  planned  an  expedition  for  herself,  which  few  women 
would  think  of  carrying  into  effect.  She  took  passage  in  a  ship  for  London, 
with  such  property  as  she  possessed,  declaring  in  the  loftiness  of  her 
spirit,  that  she  would  throw  herself  upon  the  resources  of  her  genius, 
determined  to  seek  eminence  in  a  different  sphere.  She  took  lodgings  in 
the  city  of  London,  and  began  with  tasking  her  invention  to  devise  some 
scheme  of  eminence.  •  I  know  not  the  different  methods  she  might  have 
thought  of  for  accomplishing  her  purpose,  if  more  than  the  one  by  which 
she  in  some  degree  succeeded  employed  her  ingenuity.  Her  name  came 
before  the  public  as  the  inventress  of  the  art  of  making  w^axen  figures  of 
full  size,  with  a  strict  likeness  of  the  persons  for  whom  she  took  them. 
This  implied  more  art  and  skill  than  would  at  first  appear.  The  material 
was  to  be  purified  in  the  first  place,  and,  if  the  object  required  it,  be 
brought  to  a  perfect  whiteness.  It  must  then  be  mixed  with  some  sub- 
stance that  would  give  to  it  the  proper  complexion.  It  must  not  be  liable 
to  become  soft  by  any  temperature  of  the  atmosphere,  nor  be  liable  to 
crack  by  cold,  after  being  formed  into  a  shell  of  no  great  thickness.  Her 
mode  of  taking  a  likeness  was  different,  as  I  am  informed,  from  that  v.'liich 


is  Tio^v  practiced.     I  believe  that  waxen  figures  are  now  made  by  first 
formin-  a  mould  of  some  other  material,  and  then  casting  the  wax  into 
it      She  chose  an  apron  of  some  fine  stuif,  such  as  cambric,  and  hav- 
mcr  so  prepared   the    wax    that   it  should  be   sufficiently  soft   to   yield 
and  spread  with  the  warmth  of  the  hand,  she  gave  it  a  first  rude  shape  by 
holdino-  it  in  her  hands  and  moulding  it  rudely  with  pressure  applied  at 
discretion,  while,  as  a  portrait-painter,  she  looked  at  the  countenance  and 
consulted  the  visage  and  features  she   would  imitate.     She  then  placed  it 
under  the  apron  and  brought  it  to  the  perfection  she  wished  by  acting 
with  one  hand  applied  to  the  interior  of  the  waxen  shell,  against  the 
other  on  the  outside  with  the  cambric  between  the  hand  and  the  surface. 
This  o-ave  it  a  natural  aspect,  by  exhibiting  the  pores  of  the  skin,  and 
prevented  the  glazed  and  cadaverous  appearance  of  which  most  persons 
complain  in  such  wax  work  as  we  commonly  see.     Her  faces  had  the 
reputation  of  being  not  only  striking  likenesses,  but  of  being  natural  m 
expression  and  agreeable  in  effect. 

This  invention  was  new,  I  was  told,  both  in  bringing  waxen  likenesses 
to  the  full  size,  and  in  the  whole  manner  of  producing  them.  From 
being  totally  an  unknown  personage  she  rose  into  notice,  her  name  was 
re-arded  with  distinction,  her  resources  became  ample,  and  even  the  court 
treated  her  with  favor  and  respect.  Something  of  the  effect  which  it  had 
upon  her  I  have  had  occasion  to  remark  from  letters  written  by  her  at  the 
time  to  one  of  her  sisters,  Mrs.  Willis,  in  America,  in  which  she  often 
inculcated  upon  her  the  favorite  maxim  by  no  means  to  fail  '^in  maintain- 
ing the  dignity  of  her  character."  It  was  even  curious  as  being  sometimes 
interjected  with  as  little  connexion  with  the  subject  as  Cato's  '^Belenda 
est  Carthago." 

Sometime  after  this  the  American  war  commenced  with  the  Declaration 
of  Independence.  Aunt  Wright,  it  would  appear,  was  an  ardent  Whig, 
and  not  inactive  in  her  country's  cause  against  the  measures  of  Great 
Britain.  She  engaged  in  political  matters,  aiid  acted  the  part  of  a 
spy,  for  which  it  is  probable  every  American  will  not  respect  her  the  less, 
by  writing  letters  to  some  of  our  leading  characters,  giving  information  of 
the  measures  of  the  British  Government  that  the  Americans  might  be  on 
their  guard  and  prepared  for  events.  In  this  she  was  at  length  discovered, 
and  orders  were  sent  to  her  to  leave  the  kingdom.  She  passed  across  the 
country  with  a  view  to  embark  at  Bristol.  While  there,  walking  m  the 
street,  she  made  a  misstep,  fell,  and  her  ankle  was  so  much  injured  as  to 
terminate  in  mortification  and  consequent  death. 

My  aunt  Wright  left  two  daughters— to  one  of  them,  by  the  name  of 
Elizabeth,  she  bequeathed  the  greater  part  of  the  wax  work.  This  had 
grown  to  be  extensive  by  continual  additions  in  London,  where  it  had 


i)een  kept  for  exhibition.     It  was  transported  to  New  York,  where  it  was 
set  up  by  my  aunt*  Betsey,  in  spacious  rooms,  to  which  all  visitors  were 
admitted  by  the  payment  of  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  each.     I  was  then  a  boy 
living  in  Elizabethtown,  sometimes  at  Princeton,  and  sometimes  at  New- 
ark, getting  my  education  in  the  academies  of  these  places.     Aunt  Betsey 
had  married  a  man  by  the  name  of  Piatt,  who  was  a  trifling  character, 
and  Avho  persecuted  her  much.     She  at  last  became  scrupulous  in  regard 
to  the  correctness  of  keeping  waxen  figures  for  exhibition,  and  her  con- 
scientious feeling's  upon  the  subject  disturbed  her  so  much,  that  she  re- 
solved to  part  with  them.     The  figures  were  numerous,  the  drapery  wa.s 
often  rich  and  costly,  and  the  whole  workmanship  had  at  length  amounted 
to  no  small  expense.     She  determined,  however,  to  get  rid  of  it,  and  sold 
it  at  a  reduced  price.     This  happened  at  the  time  of  my  arrival  in  North 
Carolina.     I  remember  the  feelings  I  had  on  the  occasion.     I  was  then 
young,  had  traversed  alone  a  wide  interval  to  place  myself  among  strangers 
and  in  circumstances  wholly  new.     I  saw  the  wax-work  which  was  carried 
through  the  countrj^,  it  being  at  that  time  a  perfect  novelty  to  the  public. 
I  had  often  seen  it  before  in  New  York.     It  seemed  as  if  when  I  looked 
on  those  lifeless  figures  they  fell  little  short  of  raising  in  me  the  fullness 
of  those  joyous  transports  that  spring  up  in  our  bosoms,  when,  in  a  land  of 
strangers,  we  suddenly  turn  our  eye  upon  former  acquaintances,  or  upon 
friends  near  to  our  hearts.     My  aunt  had  come  to  think  it  a  profanation  for 
her  to  set  up  those  figures  and  likeness  of  the  dead  for  show.     I  could  not 
suppress  a  revolting  indignation  at  the  thought  of  the  degradation  and 
disgrace  which  they  sufi"ered  in  being  carried  about  the  country  to  be 
shown  in  taverns  and  to  tasteless  people,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  events 
and  associations  with  which  they  were  connected  in  my  bosom,  who  were 
unqualified  to  feel  or  estimate  the  merits  of  the  work,  the  characters  and 
circumstances  exhibited,  or  the  skill  necessary  to  the  production.     Some 
of  those  figures  might  be  considered  as  emblems  of  fallen  greatness.     They 
had  been  among  the  first  works  of  the  kind  in  London.     They  had  directed 
upon  them  something  like  the  admiration  which  men  feel  for  original 
genius.     They  had  even  received  the  visits  and  fixed  the  eyes  of  the  most 
refined  courtiers.     Now,  they  must  be  ofiiciously  introduced  and  studiously 
recommended  to  the  most  debased  subjects  that  crowded  common  bar- 
rooms, or  who  surpassed  but  little  the  animals  they  bestrode. 

My  grandmother's  maiden  name  was  Rachel  Lovel.  She  married  a 
Mr.  Harker,  who  was  a  minister  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  What  wa,*^ 
the  extent  of  his  education  I  know  not,  though  there  is  reason  to  think  it 
was  respectable.     It  is  likely,  however,  that  he  had  not  been  originally 

*  Or  Cousin  ? 


given  up  to  a  liteniry  course  from  his  first  boyliood.  It  is  more  probable 
that  he  commenced  life  with  manual  labor,  aud  that  it  was  not  till  he  was 
advanced  towards  manhood  that  he  undertook  to  study  for  the  ministry. 
He  settled  with  his  family  at  a  place  called  Black  Kiver,  in  Morris  county, 
New  Jersey.  His  residence  was  on  the  edge  of  a  hill  along  which  the 
public  road  lay  for  nearly  a  mile.  His  house  was  a  mile  from  Flanders, 
a  pretty  village,  so  called  because  it  had  been  remarkable  for  quarrels  and 
violence  in  the  first  settlement  of  the  country. 

I  was  told  that  my  grandfather  Harker  was  remarkable  for  personal  size 
and  strength.  By  this  circumstance,  combined  with  vigorous  mental  fac- 
ulties and  fidelity  in  his  profession  as  a  pastor,  we  may  account  for  the 
opinion,  said  to  have  been  prevalent,  that  the  people  in  that  vicinage  looked 
to  him  as  their  leading  character  in  counsel  and  in  action.  He  was  ex- 
perienced in  all  ordinary  practical  business.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he 
would  go  into  the  harvest-field  and  cradle  more  wheat  in  a  day  than  any 
other  man  in  his  part  of  the  country.  In  his  ministerial  labors,  both  in 
and  out  of  the  pulpit,  he  was  ever  regarded  with  high  estimation  and 
confidence  by  his  congregation.  Their  feeling  was,  that  in  the  lot  which 
had  fallen  to  them  of  having  him  for  their  minister,  they  were  a  flock  that 
enjoyed  the  privileges  of  a  vigilant  and  faithful  shej)herd,  able  to  counsel 
them  in  their  secular  interests,  and  to  guide  them  to  a  better  world  through 
the  embarrassments,  trials,  and  conscientious  struggles  of  the  christian 
warfare. 

^^'My  mother's  name  was  Rachel.  She  married  early  in  life,  a  physician, 
who  was  also  young,  and  just  commencing  practice.  His  name  was  Joseph 
Caldwell,  whose  father  had  emigrated  from  the  northern  part  of  Ireland. 
Of  three  children  I  was  the  youngest.  My  brother's  name  was  Samuel, 
and  the  difference  of  our  ages  was  almost  exactly  four  years,  for  we  were 
born  in  the  same  month.  The  birth  of  a  sister  intervened,  but  she  died 
very  young. 

I  have  been  informed  that  my  fiither  never  admitted  that  he  was  cor- 
rectly treated  in  the  provision  made  for  the  children  of  the  family.  There 
was  property,  it  seems,  but  none  was  left  to  him.  His  father  was  profes- 
sionally a  farmer,  who  looked  to  his  children,  as  they  grew  up,  to  assist 
him  in  the  support  of  his  family  and  the  enlargement  of  his  property.  My 
father  was  of  a  more  delicate  system  than  the  rest  of  the  children,  and 
with  this  peculiarity  united  a  taste  for  study  and  mental  occupation.  On 
this  account  he  was  no  favorite  with  my  grandfather,  who  estimated  his 
children  chiefly  by  their  efficacy  in  advancing  his  wishes.  He  was  slighted 
therefore,  and  by  no  means  gratified  with  desired  opportunities  of  im- 
proving his  mind  at  schools  or  academies.  To  this  he  was  obliged  to 
submit  till  he  arrived  at  an  age  when  he  was  able  to  help  himself  forward 


10 

by  becoming  useful  to  others.  He  struggled  througli  his  diflBculties  into 
the  medical  profession,  and  probably  his  father  thought  that  as  he  had  con- 
tributed nothing  to  the  making  of  his  estate,  he  ought  not  to  think  himself 
aggrieved  if  he  was  left  without  a  share  of  it. 

He  contended  vigorously  with  his  difficulties,  and  was  successfully  rising 
in  his  profession.  But,  as  he  was  alighted  one  day  at  a  mill  either  having 
accidentally  stopped,  on  being  expressly  solicited  on  the  emergency  to 
aid,  he  joined  the  too  small  strength  that  was  present  in  replacing  a  mill- 
stone. The  force  which  he  exerted  was  too  much  for  him,  he  ruptured 
a  blood-vessel  in  his  lungs,  a  profuse  hemorrage  instantly  followed,  a  rapid 
consumption  was  the  consequence,  and  in  a  few  months  he  sunk  into  the 
grave.  The  death  of  my  father,  his  burial,  and  my  birth  followed  one 
another  in  the  order  here  mentioned  in  three  successive  days.  It  was  im- 
possible, therefore,  that  my  eye  could  ever  have  looked  upon  him.  The 
woes  of  that  period  to  my  excellent  mother  must  have  been  felt  by  her  to 
have  reached  an  awful  consummation,  through  alarms  often  renewed,  hopes 
disappointed,  and  sorrows  protracted  for  months  before  the  dark  and  try- 
ing events  in  which  they  terminated.  She  was  still  in  early  life,  and  just 
at  the  season  when  the  prospects  of  her  husband,  herself  and  her  com- 
mencing family  were  brightening,  a  terrible  cloud,  dark  and  dense,  sudden- 
ly settled  upon  them,  at  length  fell  with  sweeping  violence,  and  after 
reiterated  assaults  left  my  poor  mother,  widowed  with  two  orphan  infants, 
prostrate  and  powerless  amidst  a  scene  of  desolation. 

My  father  died  on  the  19th  of  April,  1773,  was  interred  on  the  20th, 
and  I  was  born  on  the  21st,  at  Lamington,  in  New  Jersey,  near  Black 
River,  a  branch  of  the  Raritan,  a  mile  from  old  Germanton.  My  father's 
remains  were  deposited  in  the  burying-ground  annexed  to  the  Presbyterian 
Church  near  that  place,  as  appeared  by  the  inscription  on  his  tomb,  which 
I  visited  a  short  time  before  leaving  that  country  to  become  a  resident  of 
the  South. 

What  were  the  circumstances  of  my  mother  through  my  infiincy  and 
for  some  years  afterwards,  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  state,  if  1  knew 
them.  I  have  some  early  recollections  that  spring  up  in  an  insulated 
manner,  but  how  they  succeeded  one  another,  it  were  vain  to  give  any 
account.  I  have  not  the  vanity  to  suppose,  while  I  am  writing  this  account 
of  my  life,  that  any  part  of  it  is  to  be  thought  worth  the  time  necessary  to 
its  perusal.  It  is  for  every  one  to  do  with  it  as  he  pleases.  Should  the 
wish  to  know  occur  to  any  one,  he  has  the  opportunity  of  such  reminiscences 
as  are  sufficiently  distinct  to  be  ascertained  in  what  the  writer  sincerely 
intends  to  be  a  register  of  truth. 
/  The  date  of  ray  birth,  it  will  be  observed,  makes  the  earliest  scenes  of 
my  life  cotemporar}-  with  the  Revolutionary  War,  or  with  events  immedi- 


11 

ately  connected.  1  remember  the  calling  away  of  men  from  their  hornet 
to  serve  in  the  armies,  and  the  spirit  that  was  manifested  in  the  counte- 
nances, conversations  and  actions  of  people  around  me.  The  marching  of 
troops,  a  circumstance  which  I  always  hurried  out  to  gaze  on  with  sensa- 
tions rising  almost  to  transport ;  the  fife's  shrill  and  piercing  notes,  stirring 
into  reckless  activity  emotions  of  which  I  had  scarcely  known  myself  ca- 
pable ;  the  drum  rattling  into  madness  every  impetuous  feeling  that  thrilled 
along  the  nerves  or  swelled  in  the  heart ;  the  plumes  and  epaulettes  of  the 
officers;  the  measured  and  stately  march;  the  burnished  arms,  the  exten- 
sive columns  presenting  the  movement  of  a  vast  and  powerful  body  per- 
vaded by  one  animating  spirit — all  made  impressions  upon  me  at  the  time 
which  in  some  of  their  characters  may  be  considered  as  peculiar  to  the 
years  in  which  they  were  produced,  and  which  therefore  could  never  have 
been  attained,  but  at  the  period  when  they  were  actually  acquired  in  the 
experience. 

At  one  time  I  was  under  the  care  of  my  grandmother  at  Black  Kiver, 
on  a  farm  left  to  her  by  her  husband,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Harker,  at  his  death. 
She  w^as  far  advanced  in  years,  and  I  extremely  young.  Her  kindness,  as 
is  usual  in  such  cases,  is  in  my  recollection,  but  there  is  reason  to  think  that 
my  misconduct  was  too  much  for  the  total  suppression  of  her  feelings. 
Both  she  and  my  mother  were  ever  faithful  in  giving  me  all  the  instruc- 
tion in  their  power,  and  especially  in  training  me  to  the  knowledge  of 
(xod,  of  the  scrij^tures,  to  pious  sentiment  and  religious  duties. 

One  night,  alone  in  bed,  I  well  remember  being  occupied  in  my 
thoughts  almost  to  solicitude  on  our  manner  of  breathing ;  and  the  next 
morning  the  first  question  I  put  to  my  grandmother  after  seeing  her,  waa, 
how  it  was  possible  for  us  to  breathe  in  the  dark  ?  I  do  not  know  whether 
this  was  an  inquiry  involving  too  much  for  her  philosophy,  or  for  my 
supposed  capacity  of  understanding  such  explanation  as  she  might  have 
been  able  to  give,  but  no  answer  was  returned,  and  it  was  not  till  many 
years  afterwards  that  I  found  the  solution  of  my  difficulty. 

My  grandmother  would  sometimes,  though  I  believe  not  often,  become 
much  vexed  with  my  behavior,  and  when  her  anger  was  roused,  the  em- 
phatical  expression  that  she  uttered  with  a  shake  at  once  of  the  head  and 
hand  was,  "77^  break  you^  This  threat,  understood  literally  by  me  and 
not  in  the  figurative  sense  in  which  she  used  it,  was  to  the  last  degree  ter- 
rible. It  presented  her  to  my  imagination  as  placing  me  across  her  knee, 
and  snapping  me  in  two,  as  she  would  dry  sticks  or  a  pipe-stem. 

We  lived  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  man  who  took  great  delight  in  ter- 
rifying children.  I  would  sometimes  wander  in  quest  of  amusement,  till 
being  near  his  house,  he  would  suddenly  present  himself,  writhing  his 
muscles  into  all  the  distortions  expressive  of  fierceness,  his  eves  flashinr^ 


12 

with  rage,  and  his  motions  indicative  of  the  most  desperate  purpose.  It 
never  failed  to  inspire  me  with  an  instinctive  promptness  for  flight.  The 
effect  was  a  complete  panic,  and  precipitated  me  into  so  intent  an  economy 
of  time,  that  to  have  incurred  a  loss  of  it  by  looking  over  my  shoulder 
was  felt  to  be  perfectly  inadmissible,  and  in  such  cases  I  never  discovered 
the  distance  which  had  been  widening  at  every  step  between  myself  and 
the  enemy,  until  I  was  fairly  within  the  threshold  of  my  grandmother's 
door.  I  relate  this  little  circumstance,  to  show  how  some  minds  will  pre- 
fer that  kind  of  gratification  which  arises  from  making  themselves  objects 
of  terror,  though  accompanied  with  the  utmost  detestation,  before  the 
pleasure  that  springs  from  communicating  happiness  even  to  children,  and 
being  the  objects  of  their  love.  It  was  not  long  before  I  left  that  seat  of 
my  earliest  years,  and  it  never  failed  to  return  upon  my  recollection  as  a 
little  paradise,  but  the  corner  of  it,  to  which  this  man  was  contiguous, 
seemed  ever  haunted  by  a  demon  with  whom  abhorrence  in  my  imagina- 
tion was  inseparably  connected. 

At  another  period  of  these  earlier  years,  my  mother  lived  in  Amwell, 
a  part  of  the  State  to  which  I  believe  she  had  retired  from  the  confusion 
and  exposure  of  the  warfare  near  Elizabethtown,  New  York,  and  other 
parts  of  the  maritime  country.  While  we  remained  here  for  two  or  three 
years,  my  memory  had  stamped  upon  it  much  of  the  agitation  and  discus- 
sion that  prevailed  respecting  the  proceedings  of  Congress,  of  the  States, 
of  Great  Britain,  the  armies  and  battles,  the  raising  of  militia  for  short 
service,  and  the  enlisting  of  troops  during  the  war,  the  successes  and  dis- 
asters of  the  contending  forces.  One  fact  continues  vividly  in  my  recol- 
lection, that  a  man  of  our  neighborhood,  in  respectable  circumstances  at 
home,  who  had  served  with  the  militia,  suddenly  made  his  appearance 
among  us  after  an  absence  of  some  months,  barefoot  and  his  clothes  hang- 
ing around  him  in  rags  and  tatters.  I  looked  upon  him  with  astonish- 
ment, and  probably  with  the  more,  because  I  was  totally  unable  to  com- 
prehend at  that  age,  the  possibility  or  necessity  of  his  being  in  such  cir- 
cumstances. 

We  afterwards  lived  in  Xewton,  and  then  in  Trenton,  but  in  the  latter 
of  these  places  not  till  very  near  the  close  of  the  war.  While  we  resided 
at  the  former,  a  body  of  men  arrived  from  the  American  army  and  the 
scenes  of  its  active  movements.  Newton  was  the  court  house  village  of 
Sussex  county,  and  high  in  the  interior  of  the  State.  Dates  I  cannot  re- 
collect, but  it  is  not  improbable  that  it  was  at  the  period  when  the  con- 
flicts were  going  on  in  lower  Jersey.  While  I  was  mingling  among  these 
men,  one  of  them  gave  me  a  fife.  I  went  home  in  ecstacy,  but  great  as  it 
was,  it  was  doubtless  not  more  exquisite  than  the  annoyance  was  to  others, 
as  I  soon  had  occasion  to  learn  ^  though  I  could  by  no  means  compre- 


13 

liciid  how  my  notes  should  not  be  as  enchanting  to  them  as  they  certainly 
were  to  myself. 

At  a  subse([iient  period,  young  Synnnes  lived  at  Newton,  distinguished 
afterwards  for  the  theory  which  he  wished  to  establish,  that  the  earth  was 
a  hollow  sphere,  and  that  the  interior  part  w^as  accessible  near  the  poles. 
His  father  had  married  my  mother's  sister,  so  that  we  were  cousins  ger- 
man. 

When  my  mother  lived  at  Trenton  near  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  the 
portion  of  my  life  which  passed  at  that  place  has  ever  recurred  as  un- 
equalled in  interest  by  any  other  in  my  recollection.  Our  situation  was 
exceedingly  pleasant  on  elevated  ground  at  the  southern  limit  of  the  town. 
The  distance  was  but  small  to  the  bank  of  the  Delaware-  Being  then 
about  9  or  10  years  of  age,  it  was  my  custom  to  stroll  as  far  as  the  river. 
The  prospect  up  and  down  its  expanse  was  always  enjoyed  w^ith  exquisite 
delight.  Above  were  the  falls,  w^here  the  river  dashed,  and  roared  and 
foamed  among  thickly  scattered  rocks,  displaying  a  scene  of  incessant  ac- 
tion, animating  at  once  to  the  eye  and  the  ear.  On  the  opposite  bank  was 
a  mill  almost  always  in  motion.  There  the  current  of  travellers  passed 
by  a  ferry,  on  the  principal  route  between  New  York  and  Philadelphia. 
Below  was  spread  to  the  eye  a  long  reach  of  the  river,  passing  the  village 
of  Lamberton,  otherwise  called  Trenton  landing,  where  such  masted  ves- 
sels and  other  craft  as  were  fitted  to  the  navigation,  w^ere  seen  in  motion, 
or  presenting  a  scene  of  activity  at  the  wharves. 

The  banks  and  fields  were  covered  with  verdure  of  a  velvet  softness.  A 
refreshing  coolness  was  diff"used  through  the  limbs  by  the  shade  from 
above,  and  the  earth  through  its  grassy  carpeting.  A  smooth  margin  of 
composted  sand  between  the  bank  and  the  water,  diversified  with  its  pure 
whiteness  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  while  the  spirits  were  quickened  into 
gaiety,  by  the  light  motions  of  the  numerous  birds,  by  their  shrill  and  va- 
ried notes,  and  by  the  fish  that  often  bounded  wholly  above  the  water,  or 
sported  upon  the  surface. 

It  is  hoped  the  reader  will  excuse  this  indulgence  of  a  lightness,  if  not 
puerility  of  recollections,  which  have  often  recurred  through  the  succes- 
sive years  of  a  life,  much  indebted  to  them  for  their  cheering  brightness, 
when  interspersed,  as  they  often  have  been,  tlirough  scenes  of  more  grave 
and  sombrous  aspect,  and  connected  at  last  with  the  present  approxima- 
tion to  its  close. 

One  of  the  latest  events  of  this  last  residence  at  Trenton,  was  the  win- 
tering of  a  body  of  troops,  on  a  beautiful  field,  separated  from  us  only  by 
the  public  road  leading  to  the  ferry  already  mentioned.  The  interest  of 
this  circumstance  was  much  abated  to  me  by  their  being  French,  in  con- 
sequence of  which,  though  I  was   often  permitted   to  stroll  among  their 


14 

tents  tlirougli  the  day,  I  was  cut  off  fit) in  every  attempt  at  communication 
with  the  men,  or  of  learning  any  thing  from  their  conversation.  One  of 
the  impressions  most  deeply  engraved  upon  me,  was  from  the  nightly  calls 
of  the  sentinels,  which  I  scarcely  ever  failed  to  hear,  at  whatever  period  I 
happened  to  be  awake,  through  some  months  of  their  continuance  in  that 
encampment.  Though  it  was  a  mere  formal  hail,  with  the  inquiry  briskly 
addressed,  "  Who  goes  there  ?"  and  the  answer,  "  Friend,"  yet,  upon  my 
ear  it  never  failed  to  strike  with  a  stirring  and  portentous  sound.  One 
day  as  I  stood  near  the  door  looking  towards  the  river,  my  eye  was  caught 
with  a  sudden  gleam,  and  was  almost  as  quickly  directed  to  the  spot  from 
which  it  proceeded.  Two  men  appeared  fully  in  view  on  an  ascending 
ground,  bej'ond  a  small  ravine,  engaged  with  rapiers  in  furious  combat. 
The  sun  was  shining  with  all  the  splendor  of  a  clear  day,  and  the  glittering 
of  their  swords  seemed  to  convey,  as  by  an  appropriate  language  uttered  to 
the  eye,  the  flashings  of  their  rage.  I  stood  in  momentary  expectation  to 
see  one  or  the  other  sink  before  me  with  a  fatal  blow.  Such  were  their 
eagerness  and  their  quickly  renewed  passes  at  each  other,  and  yet  so  prolong- 
ed was  the  combat,  that  I  became  petrified  with  horror  that  grew  upon  me 
till  I  was  almost  overpowered,  and  I  believe  I  turned  away  for  relief,  for  I 
certainly  did  not  see  its  termination.  I  soon  inquired,  however,  and  was 
informed  that  neither  of  the  combatants  was  killed.  Two  officers,  who  were 
friends,  had  taken  a  walk,  and  began  to  amuse  themselves  by  stopping  now 
and  then,  merely  to  try  their  dexterity  in  fencing  with  their  swords.  At 
length,  it  seems  their  feelings  became  too  ardent  for  mere  sport,  and  finally 
mounted  to  mortal  fury.  The  difference  of  their  manner  was  apparent. 
Both  were  skilful  •  but  one  never  retired  from  the  footing  that  he  took, 
while  the  other,  with  a  sudden  thrust,  instantly  bounded  off  from  his  ad- 
versary who  almost  as  speedily  followed  with  another  thrust  in  return.  I 
was  told  that  the  one  who  had  practiced  the  elusive  movement,  had  not 
succeeded  in  the  strife  equally  with  the  other,  for  he  had  received  sevoral 
wounds,  and  began  to  be  vveakened  with  the  loss  of  blood,  but  had  inflic- 
ted scarcely  any  injury  of  consequence.  The  action  was  witnessed  imme- 
diately at  its  beginning  from  the  camp,  a  file  of  men  was  dispatched,  and 
I'Ofore  any  fatal  mischief  occurred,  they  were  put  under  arrest. 

I  think  it  some  time  after  this,  tiiat  my  mother  removed  her  residence 
0  Bristol,  a  place  lower  down  the  Delaware,  and  on  the  Pennsylvania  side 
of  it.  Here  I  went  to  an  English  scliool,  which  has  always  returned  upon 
my  remembrance  with  peculiar  pleasure.  I  believe  the  reason  of  this  was, 
that  the  master  had  an  excellent  talent  for  exciting  good  dispositions  in 
his  boys  towards  himself,  and  to  their  studies.  The  affection  I  felt  for 
him  has  never  been  extinguished  to  the  present  day,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
it  would  continue  unchanged  to  whatever  number  of  years  my  life  might 


15 

be  protracted.  I  was  never  kept  to  closer  diligence  in  business,  and  yet 
my  heart  reverts  to  it  as  among  the  most  interesting  and  happy  periods  of 
my  life.  Here  I  first  engaged  in  the  stndy  of  arithmetic,  and  though  I 
found  much  perplexity  in  some  parts  of  it,  which  would  probably  have 
created  aversion  under  some  teachers,  I  returned  to  every  effort  with  fresh 
determination  and  courage.  This  feeling  seemed  to  be  inspired  and  main- 
tained whenever  my  eye  was  turned  upon  the  man.  He  was  ever  intently 
occupied  in  the  various  business  of  a  numerous  school ;  was  prompt  and 
dextrous  in  every  thing  3  his  expression  was  that  of  kindness  and  a  wish 
to  improve  us  to  the  utmost  j  and,  as  this  was  apparent  in  his  features  and 
his  actions,  a  corresponding  sentiment  seemed  to  be  transfused  into  the 
bosoms  of  his  pupils,  carrying  us  at  once  into  a  concurrence  with  his 
wishes,  and  an  efficacious  improvement  of  our  time. 

..  But  a  circumstance  which  most  impressively  marks  this  period  is,  that 
here  I  began,  for  what  reason  I  know  not,  to  turn  my  thoughts  with  greater 
earnestness  than  before,  on  the  subject  of  religion.  A  part  of  the  time 
while  I  was  in  this  village,  my  mother  went  abroad  leaving  me  to  board  at 
a  neighbor's  table.  This  was  so  near  that  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  house 
which  she  occupied,  was  left  open  for  my  use  both  day  and  night.  Here 
I  slept,  and  whenever  I  chose,  to  this  I  retired.  I  got  hold  of  a  religious 
book,  and  finding  it  give  me  pleasure  in  the  reading,  young  as  I  was,  and 
fond  as  most  boys  usually  are  of  play,  though  I  was  much  at  my  own  dis- 
cretion, I  would  sit  or  traverse  the  room  alone,  reading  with  au  interest 
that  grew  so  as  utterly  to  preclude  every  disposition  to  stop. 

Wiiile  I  was  living  in  Bristol,  an  incident  occurred  which  might  have 
had  some  connection  with  this  subject,  though  it  had  certainly  happened 
so  long  before  this  disposition  to  religious  thought,  that  in  my  reflections 
since  on  that  part  of  my  life,  the  one  circumstance  has  no  appearance  to  me 
of  having  induced  the  other.  On  a  Sabbath  my  mother  was  absent,  having 
left  my  l^rother  and  myself  at  home.  She  had  always  made  it  a  particular 
point  in  our  domestic  education,  to  pay  a  strict  regard  to  the  faithful  ob- 
servance of  the  day.  I  strolled  down  to  the  wharf  for  amusement,  and 
while  there,  my  brother  and  another  boy  came  down,  and  a  very  small 
boat  lying  at  the  place,  he  immediately  got  into  it  to  go  out  upon  the  water. 
I  immediately  became  eager  to  accompany  him,  and  urged  for  his  permis- 
sion. This  he  refused,  but  while  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  boat  I  sprang 
down  upon  the  stern.  My  weight  was  not  much,  it  is  true,  but  the  de- 
scent being  some  four  or  five  feet,  and  the  boat  small,  the  impetus  sunk 
the  end  on  which  I  alighted  some  distance  down  into  the  water.  It  in- 
stantly mounted  up  again,  and  as  I  was  in  a  toppling  condition,  and  un- 
versed in  humoring  the  motion,  I  was  tossed  overboard  and  sunk,  I  know 
not  how  many  feet,  to  the  bottom.     The  pains  of  death  of  course  com- 


in 

iiieiiced  with  the  first  expansion  of  my  lungs,  and  tliey  produced  the  utmost 
efforts  of  such  action  in  all  my  limbs  as  nature  prompted,  for  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  sw^imming.  Though  I  was  very  young,  my  reflection  was  all  alive 
to  the  thought  that  a  few  moments  were  to  end  my  existence  here,  and 
send  me  into  another  world  where  my  destiny  was  to  be  forever  fixed.  The 
anticipation  was  horrible,  and  my  struggles  were  convulsive.  The  distress 
both  of  mind  and  body  was  complete;  my  thoughts  were  hurried,  but  they 
Were  distinct ',  and  it  may  well  be  supposed  that  no  words  can  give  utter- 
ance equal  to  their  intensity.  After  a  while  I  found  myself  approaching 
the  light.  Having  by  my  struggles  risen  to  the  surface,  I  found  myself 
prevented  from  sinking  once  more,  which,  had  it  occurred,  I  have  no  doubt 
would  have  ended  the  strife.  jM}^  brother  had  placed  himself  at  the  spot 
where  I  w^ent  down,  and  as  it  happened,  I  at  last  rose  so  near  that  he 
caught  me  by  the  hair  and  saved  my  life. 

When  I  vras  lifted  out  of  the  water  and  placed  upon  the  wharf,  I  found 
myself  surrounded  by  a  number  of  persons,  who  had  hurried  to  the  place. 
The  water  spouted  from  my  mouth  and  nostrils  for  some  time  with  renewed 
efforts,  until  I  began  to  feel  relief.  My  sensations  of  joy  for  the  deliver- 
ance of  which  the  moment  before  I  had  been  utterly  hopeless,  were  as  ex- 
quisite and  indescribable  as  the  horrors  I  had  suffered.  What  a  vast 
transition  of  feeling,  and  in  how  brief  a  space  I  It  is  a  species  of  know- 
ledge, which  in  its  peculiarity  and  extent,  is  probably  unattainable  but  by 
the  actual  experience.  Though  I  was  obliged  to  be  supported  or  carried 
up  to  the  house,  a  flood  of  pleasure  even  to  exultation  was  pouring  through 
my  mind,  not  apparent,  as  I  think,  to  others ;  but  not  the  less  real  in  in-- 
tensity  and  continuance.  I  was  given  to  the  repose  into  which  my  ex- 
hausted powers  naturally  sunk  through  the  afternoon,  and  when  I  awoke 
it  was  to  see  my  mother  gazing  on  me  with  concern.  At  once  shame  and 
self-reproach  must  have  been  the  expression  that  met  her  eye,  for  they 
were  felt  in  all  their  force.  I  was  dumb  before  her.  She  saw  that  it  was 
enough  for  every  purpose  she  could  wish,  either  of  warning  or  reproof; 
and  so  tender  was  she  to  my  feelings,  if  not  wholly  engrossed  with  grati- 
tude for  my  preservation,  that  for  a  long  period  not  a  word  escaped  her 
lips  in  my  hearing,  even  to  impress  upon  me  lessons  on  the  subject,  which 
she  probably  saw  there  was  no  occasion  to  illustrate  or  enforce.  For  this 
I  loved  her  the  more ;  for  though  I  was  quite  young,  I  ascribed  her  for- 
bearance to  what  I  have  ever  since  believed  to  be  the  real  cause  :  that  she 
could  not  bear  to  lacerate  me,  when  the  wound  upon  my  conscience  was 
probably  almost  too  deep  for  my  fortitude  to  bear.  I  had  been  guilty  of 
disobedience,  but  this  w^as  not  the  most  aggravating  circumstance.  It  was 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  I  was  violating  it  by  going  in  quest  of  amusement 
wholly  at  variance  with  the  reverence  with  which  she  had  ever  taught  me 


17 

to  regard  it.     If  slie  liad  inculcated  upon  me  that  what  had  happened 
was  r judgment  from  God  upon  my  transgression,  it  would  have  been  un- 
necessary, for  with  this  impression  it  already  rested  upon  me  in  all  its  force. 
These  feelings  gradually  faded  from  my  thoughts,  and  I  lived  as  heed- 
lessly as  ever.     It  was  long  afterwards  that  the  pious  affections  of  which 
I  have  already  spoken,  became  quickened  in  my  bosom,  nor  am  I  conscious 
that  the  event  just  related  had  any  connection  with  them.     I  was  left  in 
solitude  at  the  time,  and  taking  up  a  religious  book,  I  began  to  read— my 
feelings  were  excited  by  it,  and  they  grew  into  ardor  and  intensity.     I 
desert'^ed  all  amusement,  my  reading,  my  reflections,  and  a  gratifying  sense  . 
that  I  might  be  eno-aged  in  the  service  of  God,  and  have  his  approbation, 
abstracted  me  fronraiiy  of  the  diversions  that  occurred  to  my  thoughts. 
As  to  the  cause,  it  was  perfectly  inexplicable,  and  always  has  been.     My 
experience  at  that  time  was  probably  one  of  the  first  fruits  of  the  pious 
sentiments  which  my  mother  had  instilled  into  me  from  the  first  dawnings 
of  reason.     She  was  not  there,  but  the  spirit  of  God  was  doubtless  foster- 
in-  these  principles  in  my  heart,  and  educing  them  into  action.     I  have 
since  reverted  to  the  few  days  which  passed  in  these  circumstances,  and 
with  these  emotions  alive  in  my  bosom,  as  among  the  most  grateful  seasons 
of  my  life,  and  ever  to  be  remembered  with  renovated  satisfaction. 

It  could  not  have  been  long  after  this,  that  we  removed  to  Princeton. 
Here  all  the  circumstances  and  events  of  my  life  begin  to  appear  less  se- 
vered from  one  another  by  parts  wholly  forgotten,  or  obscurely  remem- 

Here  was  a  grammar  school,  and  from  the  interest  which  I  had  been 
thought  to  show  in  reading  books,  my  mother  was  counselled  by  others 
finally  to  adopt  the  measure  which  herself  had  meditated,  of  giving  me  a 
liberal  education.     The  difliculty  most  felt  by  her,  was  the  want  of  such 
an  income  as  would  sustain  her  in  the  undertaking.     I  think  it  was  in  the 
year  1784,  when  I  was  eleven  or  twelve   years  of  age,  a  Latin  grammar 
was  wanted,  and  upon  inquiry  none  was  to  be  had.     We  waited  some  days 
for  a  supply,  but  none  came;  and  as  the  determination  was  made,  I  grew 
impatient.     One  of  the  boys  by  the  name  of  F— n  from  Charleston,  being 
told  of  the  circumstance,  and  having  one  on  hand  that  was  nearly  worn 
out,  gave  it  to  me.     I  refused  it  till  I  was  told  that  he  had  two.     I  always 
felt  grateful  to  him,  and  through  the  whole  time  of  our  acquaintance  m  the 
school,  for  three  or  four  years,  he  manifested  a  peculiar  friendship  for  me. 
The  grammar  was  instantly  and  eagerly  commenced,  and  as  eagerly  prose- 
cuted till  finished.     Corderius,  Selecta  e  Veteri,  Selecta  e  Profanis,  Caesar, 
Greek  Grammar,  Greek  Testament,  Mair's  Introduction,  \irgil,  and  per- 
haps some  other  books,  followed  in  as  quick  succession  as  intent  applica- 
tion could  compass  them.     Before  my  entering  college,  our  family  remov- 


18 

ed  to  Newark,  where  my  studies  were  continued  under  Dr.  Mc Whorl er. 
The  school  at  Princeton  was  made  an  object  of  special  regulation,  and 
sometimes  of  personal  attention  by  Dr.  Witherspoon.  From  this  circum- 
stance it  certainly  had  singular  advantages  in  comparison  with  other  acade- 
mies. The  modes  of  instruction,  and  the  exercises  in  which  we  were 
gained,  were  derived  immediately  from  Scotland.  Of  their  superior  effi- 
cacy I  was  made  sensible  by  the  change.  Dr.  31eWhorter  was  undoubt- 
edly among  the  best  teachers  in  the  country,  but  in  the  class  with  which  I 
was  united,  every  thing  came  so  easily  in  my  preparations  that  it  was  al- 
most like  sport,  while  the  rest  of  the  class  appeared  to  meet  as  much  diffi- 
culty as  they  could  well  vanquish.  This  difference  proceeded  from  the 
different  methods  of  teaching,  and  I  was  perfectly  convinced  of  it  at  the 
time.'^ 

While  living  in  Newark,  my  religious  impressions  were  often  renewed. 
I  do  not  know  that  I  resisted  them,  or  strove  to  repress  or  shake  them  off, 
but  it  is  very  certain  that  at  various  times  when  they  had  been  felt  with 
much  force,  alarm  of  conscience,  and  a  dissolving  tenderness  of  affection, 
they  soon  passed  away,  and  I  became  as  careless  and  thoughtless  as  ever. 
Dr.  McWhorter's  preaching  was  generally  animated,  plain,  and  practical. 
He  sometimes  became  warm,  pointed  the  guilty  sinner  to  the  coming  wrath, 
showed  the  danger  of  growing  hardened  to  all  the  considerations  of  God's 
mercy,  his  justice,  his  judgments,  the  means  of  grace,  the  opportunities  of 
improvement,  the  uncertainty  of  life,  and  the  dread  consequences  of  failing 
to  prepare  in  this  time  of  discipline  and  probation  for  the  eternity  that  is 
to  follow.  I  would  come  home  like  the  wounded  hart  with  the  arrow  in 
my  side,  but  it  dropped  off,  the  wound  closed,  and  it  ceased  to  be  remem- 
bered. 

*  For  instance,  in  Mair's  Introduction,  it  was  the  custom  at  Newark  to  write 
down  no  more  than  tAVO  or  three  of  the  longer  sentences  in  good  Latin,  as  a 
weekly  task  on  Saturday.  But  in  Princeton  we  were  required  to  come  prepar- 
ed every  forenoon,  while  we  were  in  that  book,  to  read  the  whole  of  one  of  those 
sentences  in  English,  and  then  to  repeat  it  with  equal  promptness  in  correct 
Latin  ;  and  our  daily  appointment  was  two  or  three  pages.  Nor  was  this  all. 
For  we  then  closed  our  books,  and  the  instructor  Avould  read  to  us  Jong  portions 
of  the  English,  and  we  must  give  the  Latin  of  them  without  mistake  in  word 
or  grammatical  construction,  from  beginning  to  end.  AVe  were  not  permitted 
to  do  this  tardily,  for  not  only  if  any  one  made  a  mistake,  but  if  he  did  not 
move  directly  forward  in  enunciating  the  translation  of  the  sentence  put  to 
him,  the  next  below  was  to  pronounce  it  forthwith,  and  if  j^uccessful,  was  to 
take  his  place.  To  a  student  trained  to  this  vigor  and  promptness  of  thought 
and  action,  what  difficulty  could  there  be  in  writing  doAvn  two  or  three  sentences 
in  corrected  Latin  as  a  weekly  exercise,  as  was  tlie  custom  at  Newark  ?  Wc 
■wrote  Latin  versions  weekly  at  Princeton  also,  but  we  had  nothing  hut  English 
sentences  given,  and  we  selected  the  Latin  words  and  phraseology  for  ourselves. 
This  taught  us  the  use  of  words  agreeably  to  their  true  classical  ijuport.  Dr. 
Witherspoon  had  various  methods  of  drilling  a  class.    One  was  to  run  a  verb, 


10 

That  our  present  life  is  u  state  of  trial,  I  think  must  be  confirmed  bj, 
every  man  Avho  reflects  upon  the  events  of  liis  own,  and  the  manner  in 
which  tliey  affect  liis  mind,  liis  affections,  his  outward  condition,  his  men- 
tal character,  and  his  prospects  of  the  future,  liimiting  our  views  even 
to  our  earthly  existence,  it  is  probationary.  Our  choice  of  action,  at  any 
moment  wdicn  it  is  made,  must  be  regulated  by  the  past,  that  we  may 
choose  our  object,  be  intelligently  directed  to  it,  whatever  it  may  be,  and 
that  the  means  may  be  adapted  to  its  attainment.  In  regard  to  every  one 
of  these  we  are  liable  to  error,  and  of  course  to  be  corrected  by  experience. 
This  experience  constitutes  the  very  thing  which  is  called  providence  by 
those  who  believe  in  God's  administration  of  all  human  affairs.  It  setfl 
before  us  all  the  variety  of  ends  which  it  is  possible  for  us  to  choose,  and 
we  are  subjects  of  trial,  when  w^e  make  our  selection.  If  our  end  be  a 
good  one,  it  is  one  evidence  in  behalf  of  our  virtue.  We  have  been  put 
to  the  test  on  this  point,  and  it  has  terminated  in  our  favor.  If  we  limit 
ourselves  to  instrumentality  which  God  approves,  it  is  another  proof  that 
our  affections  and  views  have  been  formed  as  we  have  advanced  through 
the  past  upon  correct  principles.  If  conscience  has  been  our  authority,  it 
is  still  further  testimony,  by  evincing  both  that  it  is  enlightened,  and  that 
w^e  have  listened  as  became  us  to  its  voice.  If  at  any  time  we  have  not 
adhered  to  these  principles,  it  proves  no  less  that  we  have  been  in  fault, 
and  as  we  have  had  our  choice,  we  must  properly  sustain  the  consequences. 
One  great  consequence  must  ever  be,  that  if  w^e  have  chosen  ill,  and  re- 
fuse afterwards  to  be  chastened  bj  its  external  effects,  or  the  reproofs  and 
interdicts  of  the  heart,  we  give  pr-xif  that  we  are,  so  far  at  least,  ripening 

as  it  was  called,  through  all  the  successive  tenses  and  moods  in  the  first  per- 
pon,  then  in  the  second  person,  the  third,  and  so  on:  and  to  repeat  the  impera- 
tive, the  infinitive,  the  gerunds,  supines,  and  participles.  This  was  done  in 
both  voices.  Another  exercise  consisted  in  comparing  an  adjective,  and  keep- 
ing up  the  repetition  of  the  degrees,  through  all  the  genders  and  cases  in  both 
numbers.  A  third  method  of  giving  us  skill  was  to  carry  an  adjective  through 
the  cases  and  numbers  in  company  with  a  masculine  substantive,  then  with 
a  feminine,  and  then  with  a  neuter.  A  fourth  exercise  was  to  come  prepared 
daily  with  a  page  or  two  of  vocables,  so  as  to  give  the  English  for  the  Latin, 
and  the  Latin  for  the  English.  In  another  instance,  he  would  select  a  Latin 
verjj,  and  call  upon  each  of  us,  successively,  to  ^ive  a  compound  with  the  mean- 
ing, till  all  the  compounds  were  exhausted.  A  sixth  exercise  was  made  out 
by  taking  some  verb,  as  ago,  having  various  idiomatic  imports  according  to  its 
connection,  and  we  were  required  to  give  examples  of  its  idiomatic  uses.  This 
note  is  subjoined  evidently  not  for  all  readers,  but  as  a  suggestion  to  teachers. 
But  these  are  by  no  means  all  the  methods  of  drilling  to  whrch  we  were  called. 
When  we  first  commenced  any  one  of  them,  we  were  slow ;  but  the  quickness 
to  which  we  presently  attained,  was  evidence  of  the  improvement  consequent 
upon  such  practice.  The  UK^st  efiicicnt  cause  of  the  high  degree  of  pci-foction 
at  which  scholars  arrive  in  European  grammar  schools  and  scientific  institu- 
tions, is  to  be  seen  in  the  diversity  of  exercises  devised  and  continually  prac- 
ticed through  the  whole  course  of  education. 


20 

in  iniquity,  and  exposing  ourselves  to  God's  disapprobation,  to  that  of  all 
good  being's,  to  our  own,  and  to  all  the  calamities  which  God  has  connec- 
ted with  it,  in  the  constitution  of  his  works,  and  by  his  positive  determi- 
nation. If  it  be  said  that  we  are  the  children  of  circumstances,  still  it  is 
true  that  these  circumstances  are  at  once  the  arrangement  of  God,  so  as 
forever  to  retain  us  under  a  complete  responsibility  for  the  result  as  to 
good  or  ill  which  is  to  be  their  issue  with  respect  to  us.  If  we  cannot 
choose  our  condition,  or  control  events,  we  have  our  choice  of  the  course 
we  will  pursue,  so  far  as  sin  or  obedience  to  the  truth  is  concerned.  This 
is  unquestionable  at  every  step  we  take,  we  have  the  incontestable  evidence 
to  it,  which  is  of  the  nature  of  fact,  the  evidence  pronounced  by  con- 
sciousness, whenever  we  appeal  to  it.  The  overruling  power  of  the  Al- 
mighty, then,  detracts  nothing  from  our  complete  responsibility.  We  are 
truly  and  justly  probationers,  both  in  our  present  state,  and  as  to  our  fram- 
ing ourselves  to  the  good  or  ill  connected  with  our  welfare  or  our  misery 
hereafter.  He  gives  us  external  opportunity  of  knowing  our  duty,  and 
having  it  forcibly  urged  upon  us.  He  impresses  it  upon  us  by  his  Spirit, 
in  a  manner  calculated  to  reform  and  improve  us.  This  he  never  would 
do,  were  we,  who  are  of  wicked  dispositions,  not  in  a  state  of  trial,  nor  sus- 
ceptible of  recovery.  Were  not  this  our  condition,  were  we  not  in  a  state 
of  discipline  and  responsibility,  but  wholly  given  up  to  the  spirit  of  dis- 
obedience which  every  man  feels  to  be  prevalent  within  him,  our  only 
feelings  at  all  times  would  be  opposition  to  holiness,  and  complete  aban- 
donment to  its  motives  and  the  outward  expressions  of  it — our  universal 
intercourse — and  a  consequent  utter  despair  of  heaven,  and  an  over- 
whelming sense  of  final  consignment  to  sin  and  all  its  woes. 

I  have  indulged  in  these  reflections  here,  because  they  are  the  result  of 
the  thought  and  experience  of  all  those  years  of  my  life  on  the  events  of 
which  I  am  now  turning  a  reviewing  eye.  I  can  remember  many  occa- 
sions in  those  early  years,  in  the  various  places  in  which  they  were  passed, 
when  my  reflections  were  directed  on  God,  a  future  state,  and  the  eternal 
world.  The  interest  I  took  in  them  when  they  were  impressed  upon  me 
by  the  scriptures,  or  by  any  other  cause,  was  the  same  in  its  aspect  and 
species  as  it  has  been  through  later  years.  The  intervals  sometimes  are 
apparent  as  to  their  cause,  and  sometimes  they  seem  to  have  become  irre- 
coverably lost  to  my  remembrance.  Whether  they  had  a  connection  with 
one  another,  and  by  what  ties  of  circumstances,  or  thought,  or  emotion  as 
they  were  successively  renewed,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  deter- 
mine, though  to  the  Spirit  of  God  who  produced  them  and  witnessed  all 
their  efi"ects,  they  are  present  now  as  at  the  moment  when  they  agitated 
my  bosom.  ,  Sometimes  I  would  return  from  church  with  a  heart  deeply 
afi"ccted  with  the  considerations  presented  there  of  my  obligations  to  God 


21 

for  his  goodness  in  the  ordinary  blessings  of  food  and  raiment,  relations 
and  friends,  health  and  the  pleasures  connected  with  it.  (Conscience  im- 
pressed upon  me  portentously  the  consequences  of  my  thoughtless  ingrati- 
tude. The  prospects  of  heaven  to  the  good,  and  of  endless  misery  to  the 
wicked,  drove  from  me  for  a  time  every  wish  for  the  amusements  on  which 
I  was  commonly  intent.  The  love  of  God  in  sending  his  Son  into  the 
world  to  redeem  me  from  death,  and  open  the  way  to  heaven,  combined 
with  all  its  force  in  impressing  my  conscience  with  the  responsibility  im- 
posed by  this  consummation  of  mercy.  My  mother  was  often  engaged  in 
giving  me  religious  instruction,  and  deepening  its  impressions  upon  my 
heart.  Sometimes  an  accident  would  happen,  to  set  before  me  the  utter 
uncertainty  in  which  I  lived.  The  death  of  a  neighbor  by  sickness,  or 
by  some  sudden  accident,  the  grave-yard,  the  darkness  of  night  when  in 
solitude,  naturally  accompanied  with  abstraction  from  sensible  scenes,  and 
plunging  my  thought  into  the  spiritual  world — every  thing  of  this  nature 
excited  in  me  a  sense  of  religion,  a  reference  to  God,  and  to  the  danger 
I  was  in  of  being  lost  forever,  if  I  should  die  without  being  made  the  sub- 
ject of  his  saving  grace.  It  was  all  the  striving  of  his  Spirit,  to  prevent 
me  from  being  wholly  engrossed  with  the  earth,  and  to  educate  me  in  this 
school  of  his  providence  for  better  and  more  glorious  purposes  than  the 
interests  and  pleasures  of  a  mere  earthly  existence.  An  excellent  practical 
writer  on  "  Keeping  the  Heart"  remarks  that  '^  Providence  is  like  a  cu- 
rious piece  of  tapestry,  made  of  a  thousand  shreds,  which  single  appear 
useless,  but  put  together,  they  represent  a  regular  and  connected  liistory 
to  the  eye." 

I  am  reminded  here  of  an  incident  which  happened  at  Princeton,  but 
which  it  did  not  occur  to  mention  among  events  there.  Among  our  boy- 
ish diversions,  it  was  one  to  range  ourselves  in  two  companies,  and  having 
small  wagons,  to  run  stages,  as  we  called  it,  along  the  street,  to  see  who 
could  pass  and  leave  the  others  behind.  One  day  we  set  out  in  this  man- 
ner fresh  and  buoyant  in  our  spirits,  six  in  each  company,  and  pressing 
the  strife  of  our  opposition  to  the  utmost.  We  presently  met  a  wagon 
with  four  horses,  and  in  turning  out,  we  all  took  the  same  side  of  the  way. 
Our  company,  as  it  happened,  were  to  pass  between  the  other  and  the  team 
before  us.  Our  antagonists,  thoughtles^y  urged  to  take  advantage  of  the 
circumstance,  suddenly  thrust  themselves  against  us  as  soon  as  we  came 
by  the  side  of  the  horses.  In  the  instant  six  of  us  were  all  thrown  in  a 
promiscuous  heap  directly  upon  the  track  of  the  wheels.  It  happened 
that  the  driver  was  following  his  wagon  at  some  distance  behind,  and  could 
do  nothing  in  the  emergency.  The  animals  it  seems  chose  their  steps  so 
as  not  to  strike  or  trample  on  any  of  us.  The  wheels  were  to  come  next. 
The  movement  that  overthrew  us  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that  I 


22 

had  no  knowledge  of  our  situation  on  tlie  ground,  and  I  was  so  complctelj 
under  the  rest  that  I  could  see  nothing.  In  thinking  immediately  after- 
wards upon  the  matter,  it  appeared  to  me  most  natural  that  I  should  have 
waited  tiJl  the  others  might  have  time  to  rise  and  release  me ;  and  this  was 
my  first  thought  after  I  was  down.  But  it  continued  only  for  a  moment. 
The  very  next  instant  I  commenced  a  violent  effort  of  limbs  and  body  at 
hap-hazard,  contracting  and  tossing  in  every  direction,  so  as  to  disengage 
myself  with  a  speed  that  quite  surprised  me,  when  I  considered  the  con- 
fining pressure  which  had  seemed  to  forbid  all  hopes  of  extrication.  By 
this  exertion,  those  that  were  above  me  were  thrown  off,  and  no  sooner  was 
I  released  than  I  sprang  upon  my  feet,  and  found  myself  outside  of  the 
road,  but  in  such  confusion  of  senses  that  I  knew  nothing  of  the  imminent 
danger^  I  had  eluded.  I  saw,  however,  the  fore-wheel  and  then  the  other 
pass  over  the  ankles  of  one  of  my  comjDanions.  The  rest  had  been  saved . 
from  being  crushed  by  the  same  effort  which  had  proved  the  means  of  my 
own  escape.  The  petrifying  and  awful  effect,  however,  which  w^as  produced 
upon  me,  may  be  conceived  when  immediately  afterwards  I  was  told  by  a 
boy  who  saw  the  whole,  that  while  I  was  down  my  neck  lay  exactly  across 
the  route  in  which  the  wheel  was  to  run.  I  was  young  and  thoughtless ; 
but  the  first  reflection  that  rushed  upon  me,  was,  that  Grod  in  his  goodness 
had  saved  my  life  by  prompting  me  in  the  critical  moment  to  act  as  I  did. 
I  exchanged  not  a  word  more  with  any  one,  but  walked  home  with  feelings 
sunk  as  low  as  a  few  minutes  before  they  had  been  elevated.  I  soon  found 
that  every  one  but  my  mother  knew  the  circumstance,  and  they  seemed  to 
gaze  at  me  for  a  time  with  particular  interest.  My  resolutions  rose  to  a 
high  pitch  of  strength,  that  I  would  no  longer  live  as  before,  in  the  neg- 
lect of  my  religious  duties.  My  mother  afterwards  learned  from  others 
the  peril  in  which  I  had  been,  for  I  could  not  bear  to  tell  her  myself.  She 
remarked,  as  did  others,  that  a  deep  and  settled  gloom  hung  upon  me  for 
man}''  days,  and  my  feelings  were  certainly  in  accordance  with  their  obser- 
vation. 

There  are  doubtless  incidents  in  the  life  of  every  one,  which  cannot  but 
appear  calculated  to  produce  religious  impressions.  Even  the  man  who  is 
habitually  an  unbeliever  in  a  special  providence,  will  probably  remember 
some,  if  not  many,  which  had  tlifcir  instant  effect  in  filling  his  mind  with. 
thoughts  of  God,  of  eternity,  and  a  want  of  preparation  for  passing  out  of  the 
present  into  a  future  state.  If  this  be  true,  it  is  evidence  of  the  nature 
of  fact,  that  in  our  constitution  we  are  destined  for  immortality.  The  first 
references  of  our  minds- in  instances  of  danger,  or  extreme  distress,  are  the 
Icinguage  of  nature.  They  may,  in  after  thought,  be  resolved  into  baseless 
notions  and  superstitious  fears,  but  still  it  must  be  admitted  that  our  first 
suggestions  are  those  of  religion,  and  bear  all  the  marks  of  being  the  genu- 


28 

ine  result  of  an  origiiuil  detcnninaiion,  to  us  inevitable,  and  a.s  certainly 
natural.  Is  it  to  be  esteemed  a  privilege  or  an  honorable  distinction  t<j  be 
wholly  exempt  from  them?  Then  the  brutes,  in  this  respect  at  least,  arc 
to  be  envied  by  us,  for  whatever  other  attributes  may  be  common  to  them 
and  us,  they  are  most  unquestionably  devoid  of  the  religious  faculty.  For 
my  own  part,  if  there  be  a  possibility,  ascertained  by  the  actual  experience 
of  any  one,  of  a  real  and  total  freedom  from  the  apprehension  f)f  future 
responsibility,  and  the  consequences  of  conscious  guilt  through  jiast  life, 
when  pressed  by  sudden  peril  upon  the  verge  of  death,  it  is  a  peculiarity 
in  which  I  have  never  participated,  and  of  which,  therefore,  I  am  umible 
to  judge.  To  meet  death  with  unyielding  firmness  in  a  righteous  cause, 
or  in  inevitable  necessity,  is  not  incompatible  with  the  gravest  considera- 
tion of  its  ultimate  issues.  To  unite  these  in  our  feelings  is  not  only  hon- 
orable, as  something  of  which  the  inferior  animals  are  incapable,  but  con- 
stitutes one  at  least  of  the  most  glorious  distinctions  of  man  among  ration- 
al and  immortal  beings. 

My  recollection  tells  me  that  I  have  always  been  suscepti-jle  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion.  This  has  been  the  case  on  occasions  of  public  or  retired 
worship  calculated  to  excite  pious  reflection  and  devout  emotion,  as  well  as 
in  instances  of  sudden  peril.  It  is  not  remarkable,  however,  that  exam- 
ples of  the  latter  description  should  have  taken  the  most  tenacious  hold 
upon  my  memory,  both  on  account  of  their  rare  occurrence  and  their  deep 
impressions,  and  the  peculiar  vividness  of  the  emotions  excited  by  them. 
That  they  were  directed  in  signal  mercy,  I  am  perfectly  convinced,  both 
from  the  nature  and  permanency  of  their  effects. 

While  at  school  in  Newark,  it  was  usual  for  us  to  bathe  in  the  Passaic. 
On  one  of  these  occasions,  my  companions  commenced  amusing  themselves 
by  running  along  the  ridge  of  a  high  sand  bank,  and  jumping  from  the 
extremity  down  a  precipice  of  five  and  twenty  feet,  taking  care  to  present 
their  feet  in  alighting  in  such  a  manner  as  to  sink  them  into  the  sand  that 
lay  loose  and  sloping  in  large  quantities  near  the  bottom,  so  as  to  be  stop- 
ped gradually  by  its  easy  resistance  as  it  was  carried  before  them.  I  ob- 
served their  manner  for  some  time,  and  was  prevented  at  first  from  at- 
tempting it  by  the  height,  and  tho  danger  of  not  preserving  the  right  di- 
rection of  the  body  and  feet  through  so  long  a  descent.  At  length,  hoAV- 
ever,  I  resolved  to  put  it  to  the  trial,  and  the  very  failure  happened  which 
I  had  apprehended.  They  had  commenced  with  small  distances,  till  learn- 
ing the  manner  to  be  consulted,  they  at  length  bounded  from  the  top  al- 
most to  the  base.  The  essay  with  me  was  through  the  whole  extent  at 
once,  and  throwing  out  my  feet  too  far,  I  alighted  upon  the  extremity  of 
my  body  with  a  shock  that  struck  me  breathless.  It  was  attended  also 
with  so  agonizing  a  pain  in  my   back  that  1  had  no  dmiljt  it  was  broken. 


24 

and  that  it  must  terminate  in  immediate  death.  1  had  perfect  presence 
of  mind,  and  made  some  attempts  to  breathe,  but  wholly  failed.  The 
torture  was  extreme,  both  of  body  and  mind.  At  length  I  felt  cheered 
by  some  commencing  success,  and  in  about  five  minutes  I  found  myself 
able  to  rise  upon  my  feet.  The  pain  abated  afterwards  in  a  manner  that 
perfectly  surprised  me,  and  once  more  I  seemed  to  have  been  snatched,  as  in 
a  moment,  from  the  jaws  of  death.  My  companions  who  had  been  appalled 
at  the  accident,  were  rejoicing  over  me  as  we  walked  home,  which  I  at  last 
found  myself  able  to  do,  though  it  was  at  least  a  mile  from  the  river.  Once 
more  I  was  for  some  time  oppressed  with  a  melancholy  feeling  at  the 
thought  of  the  danger  I  had  escaped ;  but  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  that  it 
was  accompanied  more  with  the  pleasure  of  safety,  than  with  gratitude 
for  the  deliverance,  or  with  steadfast  resolutions  to  live  prepared  to  die. 

While  I  continued  in  Newark,  my  progress  in  the  languages  was  unin- 
terrupted. I  never  experienced  any  thing  like  reluctance  or  dissatisfac- 
tion in  relinquishing  amusement  for  study.  I  do  not  know  that  I  was 
ever  whipped  for  not  getting  a  lesson.  My  usual  feeling  was  that  of  grat- 
ification, when  the  hour  for  reciting  arrived.  The  consequence  Avas,  as 
may  be  supposed,  and  as  all  my  recollections  suggest,  that  my  teachers  and 
myself  were  mutually  satisfied.  And  though  I  have  seen  much  of  the  in- 
disposition of  youth  to  prosecute  knowledge  when  it  was  put  into  their 
power,  and  they  had  nothing  else  to  do,  I  have  never  had  such  a  com- 
prehension of  aversion  from  it,  as  their  experience  would  probably  con- 
vey. Nor  is  this  by  any  means  to  be  supposed  singular.  In  every  school 
or  literary  institution  where  numbers  are  assembled,  there  are  always  some, 
if  not  many,  of  whom  the  same  thing  is  true.  Yet,  we  are  compelled  to 
believe  that  there  are  others,  if,  indeed,  they  do  not  make  the  majority,  to 
whom  it  is  equally  mysterious,  how  it  is  possible  so  to  delight  in  study,  as  to 
have  their  richest  enjoyments  broken  up,  if  they  could  not  be  employed  in  it. 

Having  been  much  engaged  in  the  instruction  of  youth,  it  has  sometimes 
occurred  to  remark  to  such  as  could  not  be  induced  to  an  improvement  of 
their  opportunities,  that  there  were  hundreds  of  minds  to  whom,  if  the 
avenues  of  knowledge  and  its  enjoyments  could  be  thrown  open  as  liberally 
as  to  them,  it  would  be  estimated  as  a  consummation  beyond  which  there 
was  no  earthly  privilege,  which,  even  in  their  youthful  imagination,  they 
would  be  so  visionary  as  to  have  a  conception  of  or  a  wish  for.  Upon  some, 
perhaps,  a  beneficial  impression  has  been  left  by  the  thought ;  but  upon 
others  there  was  every  reason  to  know  that  it  was  followed  by  no  other 
feelings  than  those  of  offence  and  irritation,  which  they  would  unhappily 
deduce  from  a  supposed,  or  at  least  a  chargeable,  invidious  contrast  to  their 
disadvantage  between  themselves  and  some  others  who  were  far  beneath 
them  in  the  world. 


9.p; 


We  at  length  removed  from  Newark  to  Elizabetlitown.     At  this  place 
too  much  time  ^Yas  lost  to  mc  in  advancing  my  education.     I  believe  all 
thou-ht  was  for  some  time  rclinciiiished  of  extending  it  further.     My  time 
passe'd  away  in  such  boyish  amusements  as  casually  offered,  or  my  inven- 
tion contrived.     After  a  year  or  two  had  passed  in  this  manner,  which  I 
cannot  but  consider  as  wholly  wasted  as  to  all  important  acquisition  in 
knowledge  or  culture.  Dr.  Witherspoon,  who  had  known  me  in  the  gram- 
mar school  at  Princeton,  passing  one  day  in  the  stage  through  Elizabeth- 
town  to  or  from  New  York,  mentioned  to  my  mother  the  subject  of  con- 
tinuino-  my  education.     He  encouraged  her  to  do  so,  if  it  could  be  effec- 
ted and  he  dropped  some  hints  that  if  it  could  be  no  otherwise  accom- 
plished, himself  would  become  my  patron  and  see  that  by  some  means  I 
should  be  sustained  through  a  collegiate  course.     When  he  was  gone,  I 
was  told  of  it,  and  in  a  moment,  though  I  had  nothing  before  me  at  home 
but  an  unlimited  swing  in  pastime,  my  heart  bounded  at  the  suggestion  of 
renewing  the  prosecution  of  my  studies.     My  recollection  presents  to  me 
no  influence  of  motives  springing  from  the  ultimate  conseciuences  of  a 
liberal  education.     The  engagements  of  a  school  had  always  been  inter- 
esting to  me,  and  it  was  the  gratification  that  was  to  be  renewed,  that 
filled°me  with  eagerness  for  the  object.     I  therefore  teazed  my  mother 
with  inquiries  respecting  the  precise  manner  in  which  the  Doctor  had 
spoken  of  the  matter,  and  the  probability  there  might  be  that  my  studies 
mioht  be  resumed.     Some  weeks,  if  not  months,  passed  away  in  ,this 
uncertainty,  and  at  last  I  received  information  that  the  determination 
was  becoming  conclusive  in  my  favor. 

Before  leaving  the  subject  of  my  residence  at  Elizabethtown,  a  circum- 
stance occurs  as  having  furnished  another  instance  of  the  manner  m  winch 
Providence  decides  our  destination  through  life  by  incidents  upon  which 
the  future  seems  to  turn  as  upon  the  nicest  pivot.     In  traveling  along  a 
road,  the  difference  may  appear  of  little  import  as  to  which  of  two  roads 
we  may  happen  to  take  when  they  are  presented  to  our  choice.     The  re- 
gion we  are  to  traverse,  may  seem  to  be  much  the  same,  especially  to  our 
early  youth,  which  knows  not  how  to  look  at  distant  consequences.     And 
yet,  by  the  decision  made  at  the  moment,  the  whole  scenery  and  circiim^ 
stances  of  our  future  days  may  become  totally  different  from  such  as  would 
have  ensued  had  the  determination  been  different.     While  living  then  at 
Elizabethtown,  my  mother  spoke  to  me  one  day  of  a  thought  which  had 
entered  her  mind  of  putting  me  into  a  printing  office,  to  be  brought  up  U> 
that  business.     After  asking  the  particulars  as  to  the  manner  of  making 
provision  for  it,  and  the  man  with  whom  I  was  to  be  placed,  I  was  capti- 
vated with  the  plan,  and  urged  it  with  much  persuasion  to  as  speedy  an 
issue  .s  possible.     It  would  seem  that  I  felt  no  real  complacence  in  the 


26 

idle  life  that  I  was  leading,  nor  any  wish  for  it3  continuance.  The  occu- 
pation of  a  printer  was  connected  with  literary  pursuits,  and  my  education 
was  sufficiently  advanced  to  enter  upon  it  with  advantage,  and  to  furnish 
a  foundation  for  an  enlarged  and  liberal  prosecution  of  the  profession. 
Such  were  my  views,  even  at  that  early  period.  Every  day  I  asked  my 
mother  how  the  plan  advanced,  and  when  I  was  to  begin.  She  told  me 
that  she  had  proposed  the  matter  to  one  who  carried  on  the  business  and 
published  a  newspaper  in  the  town,  that  he  had  promised  to  consider  it, 
and  was  to  give  an  answer.  At  length  she  received  one  in  the  affirmative : 
but  no  sooner  was  it  reported  to  her,  than  she  revolted  from  the  project, 
and  informed  me  that  her  mind  was  now  in  such  a  state  that  she  never 
could  consent  to  it.  At  this  I  was  not  a  little  surprised.  I  argued,  and 
even  remonstrated  :  explained  to  her  the  comprehensive  prospects  which 
I  hoped  to  push  with  success,  beyond  the  mechanical  parts  of  the  profes- 
sion, that  I  had  no  idea  of  limiting  myself  to  humble  and  contracted  views 
in  the  business,  and  that  though  it  was  easy  to  do  this,  it  was  with  a  view 
to  the  ulterior  and  higher  opportunities  it  would  put  in  my  power,  that  I 
was  induced  to  wish  for  it.  When  her  dissent  was  communicated  to  the 
one  who  had  consented  to  take  me,  he  complained  not  a  little,  and  I  urged 
this  also  as  a  reason  for  concluding  the  affair  by  letting  me  go  to  him.  All, 
however,  was  of  no  avail.  She  had  thought  more  fully,  and  could  not  be 
reconciled.  Her  reasons  on  which  she  conclusively  rested,  did  credit  to 
her  sentiments,  whether  those  reasons  were  in  accordance  with  tact  and 
truth  or  not.  She  finally  objected  to  the  profession,  as  having  a  tendency 
to  harden  and  pervert  the  heart,  by  engaging  it  in  the  temptations  and 
wiles  of  controversy.  The  facility  of  publication  to  one  who  commands  a 
press,  she  said,  was  a  snare,  inducing  him*  to  give  vent  to  passions,  and  to 
commit  himself  in  sentiments,  which,  if  sustained,  must  injure  his  moral 
principles,  and,  if  relinquished,  must  expose  him.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if 
a  familiar  and  mechanical  dealing  in  types  was  attended  with  the  conse- 
quences of  recklessness  and  hardihood  in  regard  to  true  sentiment,  as  sail- 
ors who  eminently  live  in  the  midst  of  dangers  are  most  regardless  of  con- 
scientious restriction,  and  learn  to  "sin  as  with  a  castrope."  It  was  with 
such  impressions  as  these,  whether  experimentally  true,  or  only  baseless  ap- 
prehensions, that  she  explained  her  purpose  as  it  became  finally  settled  on 
the  subject,  and  the  plan  was  relinquished.  It  was  so  long  after  this  that 
Dr.  Witherspoon  proposed  the  continuance  of  my  education  through  a 
complete  collegiate  course,  that  the  thought  of  my  becoming  a  printer, 
from  which  I  had  been  so  critically  diverted,  had  dropped  out  of  sight. 
But  when  I  look  back  at  these  events,  they  contain  to  me  a  striking  ex- 
emplification of  our  being  wholly  at  the  disposal  of  Providence,  while  at 
the  moment  we  may   think  of  nothing  else  than  of  determining  every 


27 

tiling  by  our  own  choice,  or  by  the  opinions  and  wishes  of  our  friends. 
This  conviction  is  more  apt  to  be  made  upon  us,  when  on  tlie  turnino- 
point  we  took  a  direction  that  changed  the  whole  aspect  of  our  life,  than 
in  cases  of  minute  and  scarcely  observable  consequence.  But  there  is  no 
difficulty  in  seeing  that  by  one  of  these  two,  or  by  a  succession  of  them, 
w^e  may  come  to  be  placed  in  circumstances  equally  decisive  upon  an  ex- 
tensive scale,  or  in  producing  such  a  contexture  of  our  character  and  con- 
dition at  last,  as  must  exhibit  those  little  events  or  influences  to  have  been 
of  the  utmost  consequence,  though  while  they  were  passing  they  scarcely 
attracted  our  notice,  and  have  long  been  forgotten,  and  become  to  us  as 
though  they  had  never  been. 

Had  the  bestowment  of  me  upon  the  printer  been  fulfilled,  the  whole 
train  of  circumstances  and  events  ensuing  upon  it  must  of  course  have 
been  different  from  the  course  into  which  the  disposition  by  Dr.  Wither- 
spoon  gave  a  direction.  The  time  came  when  the  conclusion  was  an- 
nounced to  me,  and  that  the  stage  was  forthwith  to  carry  me  to  Prince- 
ton. It  was  in  the  spring  of  1787,  and  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age.  A 
few  hours  brought  me  to  the  place,  but  they  were  filled  with  a  profusion 
of  thoughts,  as  to  the  immediate  and  more  distant  prospects  that  were 
now  opening  before  me.  The  course  of  trial  already  past,  of  the  species 
of  employment  before  me,  was  of  such  a  nature  as  Jiot  to  harrass  me  with 
distrust,  and  though  at  an  age  when  we  may  be  supposed  to  feel  but  little 
concern  about  the  subsequent  years,  still  distant,  when  the  arrival  at  man- 
hood will  call  upon  us  to  act  for  ourselves,  my  anticipations  then  extended 
to  them.  The  tender  premonitions  which  my  mother  had  sometimes 
poured  into  my  bosom,  while  the  tears  flowed  down  her  cheeks,  she  would 
cast  her  eye  forward,  and  endeavor  to  impress  me  with  the  dreadful  un- 
certainty of  the  course  I  might  choose,  and  the  destiny  that  awaited  me 
in  the  w^orld,  had  not  been  wholly  lost  upon  me.  I  had  long  been  idle, 
and  in  the  habit  of  looking  for  nothing  but  pastime,  but  this  occasioned 
no  regrets,  and  I  looked  forward  to  assiduous  application  as  the  certain 
and  proper  consequence  of  the  change.  Upon  this  my  purpose  was  fixed, 
nor  was  a  doubt  felt  that  it  was  to  be  instantly  and  constantly  realized. 

On  arriving  at  Princeton,  I  went  and  offered  myself  to  Dr.  Smith  for 
examination,  and  being  told  that  it  would  be  proper  for  me  to  see  Dr. 
Witherspoon,  I  went  to  him  at  Tusculum,  a  mile  in  the  country.  He  sub- 
jected me  to  trial  on  one  or  tw^o  sentences  in  Mair's  Introduction,  and 
then  said  that  I  must  enter  the  senior  class  in  the  grammar-school.  This 
was  a  mortifying  disappointment  to  me,  for  I  had  counted  on  joining  the 
freshman  class  in  college.  I  did  not  realize  the  efiects  which  a  long 
absence  from  studies  had  produced,  and  when  called  on  to  make  Latin, 
rushed  upon  it  as  though  1  had  just  left  it   off.     I   instantly  experienced 


2b 

the  consequence,  in  the  tardiness  of  my  recollection,  and  the  blunders  I 
committed.  I  told  the  Doctor  I  hoped  soon  to  renew  my  attainments, 
which  had  been  much  impaired  by  long  intermission,  and  that  if  allowed 
to  enter  the  freshman  class,  I  should  prove  able,  by  a  close  application,  to 
take  standing  with  it.  He  replied  that  even  if  I  could,  it  would  be  under 
so  great  disadvantages  that  it  was  by  no  means  advisable ;  that  I  was 
young,  and  that  he  wished  me  to  have  every  opportunity  of  being  a  good 
scholar.  He  said  that  by  taking  a  stand  upon  entire  equality  with  my 
classmates,  I  should,  by  a  sense  of  strength,  go  on  with  pleasure  in  the 
prosecution  of  my  education,  instead  of  being  disheartened  by  difficulties, 
and  liable  to  have  the  standard  of  my  feelings  lowered,  and  of  becoming 
reconciled  to  inferiority,  by  resorting  to  the  reflection  that  I  ought  to  be 
excused  on  account  of  my  disadvantages.  The  Doctor  was  unquestion- 
ably right,  for  though  my  feelings  suffered  mortification  at  the  moment,  I 
never  doubted  afterwards  of  the  solid  benefits  resulting  from  his  deter- 
mination. As  it  was,  I  was  graduated  under  nineteen  years  of  age.  Of 
what  importance  was  it  to  finish  an  education  sooner  ?  And  even  had  my 
years  been  such  at  the  t'me,  as  to  have  brought  on  a  completion  of  my 
collegiate  course  at  one,  two,  or  three  and  twenty,  instead  of  nineteen, 
the  consequences  of  laying  a  substantial  foundation,  of  growing  into 
proper  confidence  and  decision  of  character,  by  habitual  success  through 
every  occurring  difficulty,  and  the  greater  maturity  of  faculties  by  the 
delay,  would  have  been  amply  sufficient  to  recommend  the  retrocession  of 
a  year  at  the  commencement  of  the  course. 

In  the  autumn  of  1787  my  class  became  freshman  in  college,  and  at 
the  end  of  four  years  afterwards  we  were  graduated. 

A  residence  of  four  years  and  a  half  at  that  time  of  life,  may  well  be 
supposed  among  the  most  interesting  of  all  that  I  have  ever  passed.  It 
is  usual  for  men  liberally  educated  to  remark,  though  certainly  it  is  not 
without  exception,  that  the  collegiate  part  of  life  is  often  an  opportunity 
of  experimental  comparison,  more  happy  than  any  other  at  least  of  equal 
length.  As  it  happened  with  me,  the  impression  is  confirmatory  of  the 
truth  of  the  remark.  It  was  not,  however,  without  deduction  in  ample 
sufficiency  to  do  credit  to  another  conclusion  which  men  have  been  apt  to 
pronounce  when  life  is  drawing  to  a  close,  that  when  the  whole  with  all 
its  diversity  of  coloring,  is  looked  at  with  a  retroverted  eye,  it  is  ques- 
tionable whether  the  enjoyment  or  the  suffering  has  predominated. 

When  a  concurrence  is  here  expressed  in  the  opinion  that  the  years  of 
a  collegiate  life  are  among  the  happiest  we  ever  enjoy,  an  explanation 
seems  necessary  to  prevent  mistakes  of  most  pernicious  tendency.  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  experience  of  others,  my  own  tells  me  that  if  any 
instances  occurred,  and  my  recollections  sadly  remind  me  there  were  some 


29 

in  wliich  I  sought  after  enjoyment  in  violations  of  the  hiws',  it  was  not  to 
these  that  I  have  ever  held  myself  indebted  for  that  portion  of  time  which 
was  to  be  credited  as  happy.  If  there  was  any  pleasure  in  the  moments 
of  clandestine  acts  of  mischief,  it  was  so  mixed  in  my  bosom  with  the 
agitations  of  apprehended  discovery,  and  dread  of  the  consequences  dart- 
ing across  my  mind,  that  I  should  be  far  from  recommending  it  on  the 
score  of  enjoyment.  But  in  all  such  cases,  and  I  most  heartily  thank 
the  guardian  Providence  that  was  over  me  that  they  were  not  very  nu- 
merous, as  soon  as  they  were  over,  the  gloomy  cloud  which  they  brought 
upon  my  feelings,  and  which  they  kept  hovering  around  me  for  many 
days,  was  enough  to  decide  most  unequivocally  that  much  was  to  be  set 
down  on  the  page,  not  of  profit  but  loss.  Things  of  this  kind  which  I 
did  during  the  four  years  of  college  residence,  were  happily  "few  and 
far  between,"  so  that  the  effects  produced  in  each  instance  in  tormenting 
me,  had  some  opportunity  of  fading  out  of  my  recollection,  before  another 
could  act  with  any  temptation  upon  me.  But  the  miseries  more  or  less, 
which  in  compliance  with  solicitation,  I  sometimes  consented  to  inflict 
upon  myself,  were  only  a  portion  of  the  consequent  suffering.  They  have 
never  returned  upon  me  but  with  pain,  and  always  to  beget  most  sincere 
wishes  that  they  had  never  happened.  Then  with  the  sensations  from 
which  they  have  sprung,  have  been  their  unfailing  retribution,  when  they 
have  been  resuscitated  in  my  remembrance. 

Undoubtedly  it  were  well  if  all  who  have  lived  in  colleges  were  simi- 
larly affected  by  similar  causes.  We  have  occasion  to  hear  persons  re- 
verting with  no  small  amusement,  if  not  with  delight  to  the  disorders 
committed  by  them  while  students  of  college.  It  is  true,  there  are  sports 
of  a  description  to  be  recollected  and  related  without  regret  for  any  ill  in 
their  nature  or  their  consequences.  But  every  act  at  variance  with  the 
laws  or  the  regular  business  of  a  body  of  youth  assembled  for  education ; 
especially  such  violations  as  spring  from  a  spirit  of  insubordination,  op- 
position, or  ill  will  to  instructors;  all  schemes  of  mischief  by  night  or  by 
day  that  have  for  their  object  to  produce  tumult,  disrespect  towards  the 
persons  or  the  authority  of  teachers,  or  to  dissolve  energy  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  business  by  diffusing  levity,  or  contempt  through  the  transactions 
of  it,  can  never  be  re  membered  by  a  man  of  correct  feeling  without  com- 
punction and  chagrin.  And  if  these  be  the  sentiments  excited  in  the 
bosom,  the  feats  in  which  they  w^ere  exhibited  must  drive  out  all  the 
pleasure  that  can  be  supposed  to  proceed  from  the  renovation  in  our 
bosoms  of  the  lawless  and  pernicious  hilarity  which  was  once  permitted  to 
revel  in  our  early  years,  at  the  expense  of  all  that  was  valuable  in  the 
habits,  dispositions  and  attainments  of  our  primitive  education. 

I  have  sometimes  seen  persons  advanced  in  life,  manifest  no  hesitation 


in  recounting  by  the  liour  the  disorders  of  their  college  life,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  youth,  and  even  of  their  own  sons,  who  were  themselves  students 
at  the  time,  and  passing  a  vacation  at  home,  or  incidentally  in  company 
with  them  at  the  very  site  of  the  college,  or  perhaps  some  other  place. 
The  manner,  the  loud  laugh,  the  arch  and  contemptuous  jeer  at  the  in- 
structors upon  whom,  their  tricks,  if  not  their  gross  and  shameful  outrages, 
had  been  directed,  all  acted  as  a  charm  upon  the  thoughtless  being  in 
whose  hearing  they  were  recited  with  so  m>ich  glee,  and  he  would  return 
into  the  college,  charged  with  a  spirit  of  mischief,  and  with  a  disposition 
to  beard  the  faculty,  or  his  tutor  at  least,  up  to  the  very  brim.  What 
consequence  is  so  likely  to  be  heard  of  next,  as  that  the  young  man  has  be- 
come a  bad  member  of  his  community,  that  he  is  remarkable  for  idleness  and 
dissipation,  that  his  time  is  passed  in  furtive  acts  of  disturbance,  noise, 
interruption  of  others,  sallying  out  in  the  night  upon  excursions  of  intem- 
perance, debauch,  and  such  heroic  deeds  of  irregularity  as  will  serve  to 
fill  up  hours  of  transport  in  the  recollection,  to  the  delight  of  the  company 
around  him  in  future  years.  But  these  are  not  all  the  consequences  of 
which  he  may  expect  to  hear.  The  most  probable  result  is,  that  the  youth 
may  present  himself  at  the  door  of  his  parents,  to  stun  their  ears  with 
the  intelligence  that  he  has  been  ejected  from  the  place  of  his  education 
upon  one  or  more  charges  of  ill  behaviour,  so  violent  as  at  once  to  make 
it  impossible  for  him  to  be  retained  any  longer  in  the  college,  or  so  incor- 
rigibly persevering  that  all  attempts  to  reclaim  and  save  had  been  ex- 
hausted upon  him  in  vain.  Then  commences  another  process  no  less 
dangerous  to  principle,  if  it  can  be  made  successful.  It  consists  in  pre- 
senting the  picture  of  the  wrongs,  oppressions  and  prejudices  of  those 
with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  in  such  coloring  and  form,  as  to  win  upon 
the  affection  to  which  he  appeals,  turn  over  the  ignominy  of  the  case  to 
the  authors  of  this  foul  treatment,  and  thus  be  initiated  in  the  methods 
of  commencing  with  ill,  and  triumphing  by  address.  It  is  infinitely  better 
never  to  speak  of  the  disorders  of  a  college  life,  whether  once  committed 
by  ourselves,  or  reported  by  others,  but  with  the  most  decided  disappro- 
bation. This  is  preferable  in  all  societ}^,  but  especially  in  that  of  the 
young.  Let  such  disorders  never  hope  to  find  countenance  or  palliation 
with  those  who  wish  all  the  guaranty  possible  to  the  prospects  of  their 
children,  or  to  the  efficacy  of  good  education  in  the  country.  Too  many 
are  apt  to  indulge  the  weak  imagination,  that  to  expect  or  insist  that  a 
youth  shall  refrain  from  disorderly  or  rakish  practices,  w^ould  be  to  make  him 
miserable.  The  better  method  is  to  impress  him  with  a  conviction,  and 
rationally  and  afi"ectionately  to  make  it'  as  far  as  we  can,  the  true  and  in- 
ternal result  of  every  experience,  that  every  escape  from  temptations  of 
this  nature  is  to  be  estimated  as  an  escape  from  the  miseries  inseparable 
from  a  corruption  of  the  heart  and  degeneracy  of  habit. 


Dort- 


:Vor  let  it  be  tliouglit,  that  when  a  youth  strays  from  a  regular  dcp 
meut,  he  is  to  have  t^eiitence  harshly  pronounced  upon  him  as  though  his 
case  \vere  highly  penal.  The  difference  is  wide  between  displaccncy  on 
our  part  in  their  extravagances,  and  an  imputation  of  total  abandonment. 
But  through  the  whole  range  of  this  interval,  while  we  arc  confining  our- 
selves within  it,  we  may  still  feel  a  portentous  gravity  towards  their  follies, 
show  earnestness  in  the  connection  of  their  mistakes,  frown  upon 
their  excesses,  and  pronounce  with  severity  upon  their  transgressions.  In 
doing  all  these  pertinently,  we  need  never  be  afraid  that  we  are  detracting 
from°their  enjoyments  by  withholding  them  from  immoralities,  but  for 
our  encouragement  feel  most  confidently  assured  that  just  in  proportion 
as  we  can  become  successful,  we  are  building  up  and  establishing  their 
true  instant  as  well  as  permanent  happiness. 

I  have  been  led  through  these  reflections  by  a  recurrence  to  the  events 
of  my  collegiate  course.     Their  importance  to  the  young,  to  parents,  and 
to  society,  it  is  hoped  may  apologize  for  their  protraction.     Through  the 
whole  of  that  period  of  my  life,  my  habits  were  marked  with  diligence, 
punctuality,  and  good  will  to  my  teachers,  and  the  habitual  satisfViction, 
I  believe  I  may  say  enjoyment,  which  is  the  natural  conseqence  of  these. 
To  this  an  exception  must  be  made  in  an   event,  some  circumstances  of 
which  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  relate.     Toward  the  latter  part  of  the  time 
that  I  lived  in  college,  it  became  customary  for  the  steward  to  furnish  a 
milk  diet  alternately,  with  coffee  at  supper.     At  length  it  was  observed 
that  our  supper  table  was  served  with  bread  and  milk  only,  and  it  came  to 
be  understood  as  a  rule  finally  adopted  that  nothing  else  was  in  future  to 
be  expected.     Numbers  were  dissatisfied,  and   the  discontent  soon  spread 
until  it  was  supposed  universal.     This  was  signified  to  the  steward,  but  it 
produced  no  alteration.     The  feeling  grew  to  a  higher  pitch,  and  it  was 
resolved  that  measures  must  be  taken  to  obtain  redress,  as  we  thought 
proper  to  call  it.     The  method  seemed  to  us  moderate  enough,  for  it  con- 
sisted in  nothing  more  than  entering  the  dining  room  in  the  utmost  order, 
in  the  usual  manner,  taking  our  seats  regularly,  and  in  forbearing  to  touch 
the  food.     This  we  continued  to  do  for  some  two  or  three  days,  at  the 
supper  hour.     We  begun  at  length  to  grow  tired  of  it,  and  as  it  seemed  like- 
ly to  continue,  the  students  became  violent,  and  when  the  door  was  open- 
ed for  admission,  threw  in  a  volley  of  stones,  which,  as  the  tables  being 
long,  stood  with  their  ends  towards  the   door,  raked  them,  as  manners 
would  say,  fore  and  aft.     The  whole,  as  is  obvious,  was  a  foolish  piece  of 
business,  but  the  last  was  most  unwarrantable,  and  ought  to  have  been  too 
shocking  to  be  perpetrated  except  by  a  vulgar  mob.     Certainly  it  was  un- 
worthy of  a  society  of  young  gentlemen  of  the  first  order,  a.s  we  professed 
to  be      Could  we  all  hnve  been  transferred  back  to  the  grnmmar-school,, 


there  would  have  been  no  perplexity  in  selecting  a'penalty  fitted  to  the 
nature  of  the  act.  But  under  the  system  received  in  colleges^  we  had 
doubtless  made  good  our  claim  to  the  credit  of  posing  the  Faculty  as  to 
the  method  of  treatment  best  adapted  to  the  emergency.  To  give  way 
before  violence  and  outrage,  especially  with  combination,  was  not  to  be 
entertained  for  a  moment.  The  difference  between  coffee  and  milk  was  a 
trifle  in  comparison  with  the  consequences  to  the  government  of  the  insti- 
tution. We  were  told  that  Dr.  Smith  would  personally  attend  at  the 
table  with  us  in  the  evening,  to  take  his  supper  with  us,  and  observe  the 
quality  of  the  milk,  against  which  complaints  had  been  raised.  This  was 
a  new  thing,  and  as  we  certainly  had  a  high  respect  for  his  person  and 
character,  it  was  to  be  tried  whether  this  would  not  be  enough  to  bring  us 
back  to  propriety.  The  experiment  failed,  for,  while  the  vice-president 
and  tutors  took  their  meal,  the  students  touched  nothing. 

I  find,  however,  that  in  reciting  these  pitiful  details,  I  am  engaged  in 
matters  that  may  well  be  supposed  to  become  sickening  to  the  reader,  as 
they  do  once  more  to  myself,  and  as  they  always  have  done  whenever  they 
recurred.  And  yet  I  have  known  many  an  insurrection  raised  in  a  college, 
the  merits  of  which  were  not  more  respectable  than  this.  The  following 
day,  it  appeared  that  our  offences  were  felt  to  have  risen  to  such  a  height, 
that  the  Faculty  could  not  reconcile  themselves  to  the  ordinary  transac- 
tion of  business  with  us,  and  our  recitations  were  broken  off  until  the  or- 
der of  college  could  be  restored,  and  respect  to  the  authority  and  laws 
re-established.  The  general  feeling  now  showed  itself  agitated  and  tumul- 
tuary and,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  stories  began  to  be  circulated,  either 
totally  groundless,  or  distorted  into  provoking  shapes  from  some  little  fact 
or  expression  wholly  indifferent  in  its  nature  which  might  have  actually 
occurred,  but  all  ingeniously  and  strangely  calculated  to  excite  the  reign- 
ing resentment  especially  against  the  steward.  And  now  we  continued  to 
be  tossed  for  sometime  in  a  manner  to  most  of  us  more  and  more  distress- 
ing, while  others  evidently  exulted  in  the  pretext  it  furnished  them  for 
every  species  of  disorder,  and  the  protection  from  punishment,  under  the 
plea  that  the  best  students  of  the  college  were  involved  alike  with  them- 
selves. It  was  not  very  long  before  that  which  the  wisdom  of  the  Faculty 
had  hoped  and  anticipated,  really  happened.  Most  of  us  began  really  to 
wish  to  find  out  some  mode  of  extricating  ourselves  from  the  perplexity 
which  continually  grew  more  painful  and  embarrassing.  This  was  prob- 
ably soon  understood  by  Dr.  Smith,  and  many  of  us  rejoiced  when  we 
were  told  that  he  would  be  willing  to  see  a  few  of  us  in  his  study.  A 
number  were  speedily  selected,  and  I  happened  to  be  one.  We  presented 
ourselves  before  him,  and  he  spoke  to  us  at  once  with  gentleness  and 
a  dignified  reserve.     He  asked  if  the  students  were  prepared  to  come  to 


an  lUKlerstunding  with  the  I'liculty  upon  any  terms  which  coukl  be  con- 
sistent witli  the  rc-cstablishment  of  authority  and  the  government  of  the 
college  ?  I  well  remember  the  shameful  manner  in  which  some  of  us 
met  this  inquiry.  And  I  among  the  rest  assumed  to  talk  swellingly,  and 
to  endeavor  to  show  with  what  wrongs  the  students  had  been  provoked, 
particularly  by  the  steward.  But  I  have  done  with  the  narrative,  when 
it  is  further  said,  that  we  took  care  not  to  leave  the  IJoctor  wathout  ac- 
cepting the  assurance  he  gave,  wdiich  was  that  if  we  were  all  prepared  to 
submit  to  the  laws  of  college,  and  return  to  order,  it  would  be  acceded  to 
on  the  part  of  the  Faculty,  and  the  business  of  the  classes  might  imme- 
diately re-commence,  without  further  notice  of  any  thing  which  had  been 
done.  It  was  a  grace  on  the  part  of  the  Faculty,  which  some  of  us  were 
very  far  from  having  a  right  to  expect.  For  my  own  part,  without  any 
disposition  at  this  moment  to  extenuate  any  absardity  in  which  I  was  im- 
plicated while  that  shameful  behaviour  was  going  on,  I  was  certainly  not 
forward  in  participating  in  the  disorder  or  promoting  it.  It  is  enough  for 
me,  and  ever  has  been,  when  the  remembrance  has  haunted  me,  to  think 
of  the  bold  and  flippant  airs  which  I  assumed  in  that  interview  with 
Doctor  Smith.  To  these  I  w\ns  very  much  prompted  by  my  standing 
before  him  as  a  representative  of  the  students ;  for  as  to  myself,  my  feel- 
ings and  conduct  were  habitually  respectful,  benevolent  and  ingenuous. 
But  the  plea  with  which  I  then  sustained  myself  has  never  since  that 
period  been  able  to  mitigate  the  bitterness  of  my  mortification,  or  prevent 
the  ardent  wish  that  my  conduct  on  that  occasion  could  be  merged  in  a 
complete  and  perpetual  forgetfulness. 

I  have  already  related  some  incidents  from  which  I  narrowly  escaped 
with  life.  Another  of  this  nature  happened,  v/hilc  I  was  a  student  of 
college.  It  w^as  usual  for  us  to  resort  on  summer  evenings  to  a  particular 
spot  in  a  small  stream  about  a  mile  distant,  where  the  water  was  deeper 
than  common,  to  amuse  ourselves  in  bathing.  A  sort  of  raft  had  heen 
constructed  by  nailing  planks  to  cross  pieces  of  timber  of  no  great  size, 
so  that  a  surface  of  plank  was  made  on  both  sides  of  the  pieces.  It  was 
not  very  buoyant,  and  would  scarcely  bear  tha  weight  of  one  individual 
without  sinking  under  him.  The  sport  consisted  in  hanging  around  it  by 
the  hands,  thrusting  it  about,  and  turning  it  over  in  the  water.  Several 
were  engaged  in  this  manner,  and  the  amusement  became  so  inviting  to 
me,  that  though  but  just  beginning  to  swim,  I  felt  persuaded  it  would  no; 
be  difficult  to  keep  myself  above  the  water  by  means  of  the  raft.  I 
watched  my  opportunity  and  reached  it,  but  no  sooner  w^as  this  efi'ected 
than  it  was  turned  into  a  vertical  position  by  the  rest,  and  the  next 
moment  came  down  and  covered  me  as  under  a  trap.  I  was  instantly 
drowning,  and  again  began  to  think  myself  wholly  lost.     Happily;  one  of 


34 

the  company  perceiving  that  I  was  gone  and  no  more  made  any  appear- 
ance^ pushed  away  the  raft  from  above  me,  observed  where  the  air  made 
its  appearance  that  was  escaping  from  my  Inngs  as  they  filled  with  water. 
Being  well  grown  and  strong,  and  I  but  small  and  light,  he  seized  my 
arm  and  bore  me  to  the  shore. 

Rescued  once  more  from  those  dying  agonies,  I  ought  to  have  been 
filled  with  gratitude  for  the  mercy  which  had  spared  and  preserved  me. 
But  these  feelings  had  at  the  time  but  little  place  in  my  bosom.     Through 
the  earher  part  of  my  residence  in  college,  religion  found  scarcely  any 
admittance  into  my  heart.     It  appeared  to  be  a  subject  of  which  I  had  be- 
come exceedingly  thoughtless.     The  studies  to  which  I  was  daily  called, 
the  amusements  of  athletic  exercises,  of  walking  through  the  fields  and 
into  the  country,  the  pleasures  of  growing  knowledge,  the  occupation  of 
castle-building,  to  which  my  imagination  was  much  addicted,  the  gratifi- 
cations of  success  in  my  recitations,  interspersed  with  occasional  failures, 
calculated  to  mortify  and  vex  me,  the  pleasures  which  I  took  care  gener- 
ally to  secure,  of  success  in  the  public  examinations,  the  buoyancy  of 
spirits  which  immediately  followed,  seeming  almost  to  lift  me  up  from  the 
earth,  from  a  sense  of  release  from  every  restricting  tie  of  business,  and 
the  opening  of  a  vacation  of  some  weeks'  continuance  in  unlimited  freedom, 
constituted  altogether  a  series  of  occupations  that  left  no  time  or  disposi- 
tion to  think  of  G-od,  the  giver  of  all  my  blessings,  of  the  sinfulness  of 
my  heart,  the  uncertainty  of  life,  or  the  prospects  and  destinies  of  eternity. 
But  I  was  not  left  to  proceed  uninterruptedly  under  this  engrossing  in- 
fluence of  the  world.     In  the  full  enjoyment  of  health,  I  attended  break- 
fast one  morning  as  usual  in  the  steward's  hall.     It  was  customary  to  sup- 
ply our  table  with  buck- wheat  cakes,  which  being  light,  well  made,  and 
bespread   liberally  with   butter,  were  counted  by  many  of  us,  at  least, 
among  our  luxuries.     I  had  heard  it  suggested  a  little  before,  that  those 
cakes  were  prepared  upon  extensive    copper  surfaces,  for   the  purpose  of 
greater  expedition.     No  attention,  however,  had  been  paid  to  the  report. 
It  was  heard  as  an  idle  story,  which  some  might  propagate  to  discredit  our 
fare.     After  having  eaten  about  half  a  breakfast,  my  eye  was  caught  with 
what  I  thought  a  pretty  lively  appearance  of  greenness  upon  the  cakes,  of 
which  I  had  been  freely  participating.     A  sudden  horror  thrilled  through 
my  whole  system.     In  a  moment  a  full  conviction  seized  upon  me  that  I 
was  poisoned,  and  that  I  was  beginning  to  feel  the  fatal  consequences.     I 
rose  almost  tottering  from  the  table,  asked  permission  to  retire,  and  from 
that  instant  through  the  space  of  several  weeks,  considered  myself  as  has- 
tening speedily  to  the  grave.     Never  did  an  unhappy  being  continue  more 
harrassed  and  agitated  from  day  to  day  with  symptoms  of  dissolving 
strength  and  a  rapid  decline.     I  sometimes  suspected^  for  I  wished  to  think 


35 

that  I  was  under  mLstakcn  apprelicnsions  of  having  received  poison  with 
my  food.  But  though  it  did  not  fail  to  occur  that  others  ought  to  have 
been  affected  similarly  to  myself,  it  was  impossible  with  all  the  efforts  of 
which  I  was  then  capable,  to  shake  off  the  impressions  that  haunted  me, 
that  various  feelings  to  which  I  was  subject,  indicated  a  hastening  disso- 
lution. A  dismal  melancholy  brooded  over  my  mind,  as  a  dark  and  low- 
ering cloud.  My  whole  aspect  and  manners  must  have  soon  appeared  al- 
tered to  others,  though  I  had  an  extreme  reluctance  to  let  my  situation  be 
known,  and  strove  much  at  first  to  carrj  a  countenance  of  cheerfulness, 
for  which  I  was  usually  rather  remarkable.  My  spirits  were  depressed. 
The  world  grew  to  be  a  matter  of  indifference,  or  rather  unpleasant  repul- 
sion. I  could  think  no  more  of  it  as  having  interests  for  me.  I  invol- 
untarily retired  from  intercourse,  and  courted  solitude,  that  I  might  be  free 
to  indulge  in  the  gloomy  train  of  reflections  that  kept  me  miserable.  I 
often  prayed  that  I  might  be  prepared  for  death,  but  derived  no  satisfac- 
tion from  it,  for  I  seemed  to  be  sunk  down  and  lost  to  all  the  capacities  of 
happiness  or  hope. 

It  is  probable  that  others  observed  and  distinctly  noted  the  change  that 
had  passed  upon  me,  long  before  I  suspected  them  to  know  or  think  any 
thing  respecting  it.  It  appeared  as  if  I  was  shut  up  within  myself,  and 
had  ceased  to  know  aught  that  was  passing  around  me.  There  was  reason 
to  think,  as  I  learned  afterwards,  that  I  was  under  religious  conviction, 
and  the  delicacy  with  which  they  acted  towards  me  on  this  account,  pre- 
vented me  from  discovering  anything  said  or  thought  respecting  me.  I 
came,  therefore,  to  be  left  to  the  solitude  which  was  r^.t  once  my  wish  and 
my  torment.  It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  that  had  some  discreet  Christian 
contrived  to  fall  in  with  me,  and  engage  affectionately  in  conversation  on 
religion,  until  he  could  have  learned  something  respecting  the  peculiarity 
of  mj  situation,  I  might  have  been  taken  by  the  hand,  and  with  the  light 
of  the  gospel,  been  conducted  out  of  a  despondency  which  to  me  was  like 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  into  a  region  illuminated  with  the 
brightness  of  heaven,  and  the  smiles  of  God's  favor.  But  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  I  appeared  to  others  so  anxious  to  conceal  my  situation,  and 
possibly  betrayed  such  sensitiveness  to  every  thing  that  bore  allusion  to  it, 
that  no  one  was  willing  to  attempt  an  intrusion  into  my  confidence.  What 
makes  me  think  that  a  balm  might  have  been  poured  into  my  diseased 
feelings,  that  would  have  been  attended  with  grateful  relief,  and  not  been 
rejected  as  offered  by  an  impertinent  interference,  is,  that  after  long  con- 
tinuance in  this  suffering  state,  some  person  in  whom  I  had  confidence,  did 
take  occasion  from  some  expression  incidentally  thrown  out  on  my  part, 
to  advert  to  the  satisfactions  of  religion ;  and  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
done,  made  me  grateful,  as  though  I  saw  in  him  the  friend  of  my  heart. 


36 

The  truth  is,  as  the  reader  is  well  aware,  that  a  morbid  melancholy  had 
settled  upon  me.  It  is  of  no  consequence  how  futile  and  senseless  was 
the  cause.  This  will  only  show  that  the  precariousness  of  our  temporal 
happinesF  may  sprinp:,  not  from  evils  that  are  real  and  inevitable  merely, 
but  from  sources  which,  if  you  will,  exist  in  the  imagination  only,  and  are 
in  their  true  merits  equivalent  to  nothing.  Religion  is  the  proper  and. 
only  effectual  cure  of  all  the  ills  that  humanity  '^  is  heir  to."  Ignorance, 
misconceptions,  the  natural  darkness  of  the  soul,  or  a  diseased  action  of 
the  body  upon  the  mind,  may  sink  the  unhappy  subject  into  desperation; 
but  in  every  case,  could  the  gospel  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  not  with 
a  perverted,  but  with  its  genuine  influence,  the  remedy  is  infallible  and 
complete.  Its  action  in  the  instant  it  is  felt,  will  be  pronounced  to  be  the 
very  infusion  into  the  wounded  spirit  which  heals  wherever  it  is  felt,  car- 
rying along  with  it  energy  and  joy  that  are  like  "life  from  the  dead." 

The  reader  will  see  that  at  a  period  of  my  life  as  happy  as  any  which  I 
had  ever  known,  which  had  been  of  long  continuance,  and  to  which  I 
suspected  no  interruption,  it  was  broken  as  suddenly  as  a  vessel  of  glass  is 
dashed  in  pieces,  not  by  the  loss  of  property  or  friends,  not  by  a  fit  of 
.sickness,  the  necessary  amputation  of  a  limb,  or  the  stopping  up  of  one  of 
my  senses,  but  by  a  glancing  thought  of  imagination  only,  converting  a 
bosom  into  a  scene  of  darkness  and  desolation,  where  all,  till  then  had  been 
light  and  cheerfulness.  I  sometimes  struggled  for  deliverance,  from  an 
occasional  supposition,  that  such  might  really  be  the  nature  of  my  affec- 
tion. But  in  every  effort,  though  resolutely  made,  I  was  fairly  overpow- 
ered, and  felt  myself  broiight  down  irresistibly  into  the  dust.  I  discovered 
upon  a  few  occasions  incidentally  occurring,  that  being  in  company  my 
thoughts  were  stolen  away  from  the  dejecting  apprehensions  that  usually 
occupied  them,  and  my  spirits  would  mount  unawares  to  the  gaiety  once 
familiar  to  them.  But  in  less  than  an  hour  after  returning  into  solitude, 
I  found  myself  again  prostrate  under  the  same  incumbent  pressure,  though 
I  recollect  that  at  the  moment  I  manfully  determined  no  more  to  yield  to 
it.  After  a  continuance  of  some  two  or  three  months  in  this  wretched 
state,  I  came  to  a  conclusion  that  to  prosecute  education  any  longer  in 
circumstances  so  disqualifying  and  disheartening  promised  no  valuable  re- 
sult, and  that  it  was  too  much  for  me  to  continue  to  bear.  The  issue  to 
which  I  arrived  was,  to  obtain  permission  to  leave  the  college,  and  should 
I  live  to  study  a  profession,  to  apply  myself  to  the  study  of  medicine. 
The  explanation  was  made  to  Dr.  Witherspoon  and  Dr.  Smith,  and  they 
listened  to  it  apparently  with  regret.  They  spoke  of  the  importance  of 
completing  an  education  whatever  my  profession  might  be.  It  terminated 
in  a  recommendation  to  visit  my  friends  for  two  or  three  weeks )  that  pos- 
r^bly  my  health  might  be  improved;  and  if  it  should  be,  by  all  means  to 


return  as  soon  as  possible  to  my  studies.  Tliey  doubtless  suspected  the 
true  cause  of  my  difficulties,  and  their  advice  was  fitted  to  the  removal  of 
thein.  To  get  home  was  but  au  afternoon's  ride  in  the  stage,  and  after 
being-  there  a  few  days  I  discovered  that  the  state  of  my  feelings  began 
sensibly  to  change.  I  had  grown  into  the  habit  of  daily  prayer,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  my  mother  without  my  knowledge  discovered  it,  to 
her  great  satisfaction.  I  staid  out  the  three  weeks,  and  so  surprising  was 
the  recovery  of  my  mental  firmness  and  emancipation  from  the  bondage 
which  had  so  long  bowed  me  to  the  earth,  that  I  felt  no  difficulty  in  re- 
solving to  return  and  resume  the  studies  to  which  I  had  once  determined 
to  bid  adieu  forever. 

It  may  be  asked,  perhaps,  in  what  light  I  considered  the  experience 
through  which  I  passed  in  regard  to  its  rehgious  influence,  and  whether 
it  was  deemed  by  myself  to  be  attended  with  true  conviction  of  sin,  or  to 
terminate  in  a  change  of  heart?  To  this  I  feel  compelled  to  answer  in  the 
negative.  My  heart  was  too  much  in  a  state  of  bondage  through  the  fear 
of  death,  to  agree  to  the  character  of  one  renovated  by  the  faith  of  the  gos- 
pel. I  never  enjoyed  an}^  of  the  satisfactions  of  religion,  springing  from 
love  to  God,  and  confidence  in  his  mercy,  through  Christ's  atonement,  as 
the  means  or  the  pledge  of  pardon  and  acceptance  as  an  heir  of  life..  Could 
I  have  experienced  this,  it  would  probably  have  dispersed  the  thick  and 
dreaiy  cloud  that  hovered  around  me,  and  would  have  darted  sunshine 
through  the  soul.  It  was  a  spirit  of  depression  and  despondency,  as  if  all 
hope  were  blighted,  and  I  could  look  with  no  complacency  upon  the  pre- 
sent or  the  future.  I  struggled  for  deliverance,  but  every  efi'ort  was  felt 
to  be  in  vain.  I  engaged  in  prayer  because  I  dreaded  iJie  final  judgment 
of  the  Almighty,  to  which,  in  my  apprehension,  I  might  soon  be  called. 
Looking  on  this  life  as  having  no  interests /or  /ue,  and  on  death  as  all  that 
intervened  between  the  prescMit  and  the  irretrievable  loss  that  was  to  fol- 
low, every  resource  was  cut  off  to  wliich  I  might  look  for  some  satisfaction 
to  beam  upon  my  mind,  or  replace  its  dejection  with  joy  and  courage.  And 
that  which  makes  me  tliinlc  the  more  that  I  had  none  of  the  true  spirit  of 
a  cliild  of  God  is,  that  in  my  wishes  for  relief,  I  thought  but  little  of  ita 
nature,  provided  only  I  could  effect  an  escape  from  the  dreadful  gloom 
which  constituted  my  misery.  The  consequence  vfas,  that  in  a  very  short 
time  after  my  return  to  cheerfulness  and  confidence,  my  thoughtlessness 
of  God,  of  piety,  and  a  future  world,  in  too  great  a  degree  returned  vrith 
them,  until  at  length  my  mind  became  as  w'orldly  as  ever. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  Dr.  Witherspoon  lived  a  mile  from 
town.  It  was  already  a  long  time  that  he  had  retired  from  the  daily  and 
personal  supervision  of  the  college.  He  had  become  advanced  in  3'cars, 
and  after  passing  much  of  his  life,  not  only  in  an  active  and  efficient  man- 


agement  of  tlie  institution^  but  in  a  participation  of  public  affairs^  and  as 
a  member  of  Congress  in  the  Eevolutionary  War,  lie  souglit  exemption 
from  tbe  daily  cares  of  collegiate  government,  leaving  its  maintenance 
principally  in  tlie  hands  of  Dr.  Smith,  who  had  married  his  daughter,  and 
who  held  the  vice-presidency.  Mrs.  Witherspoon,  whom  he  had  married 
in  Scotland,  died  while  I  was  a  student,  and  some  time  afterwards  it  ap- 
peared that  even  at  that  late  period  he  resolved  upon  another  marriage. 
One  morning,  shortly  after  prayers,  it  was  run- ore d  among  us  that  the 
Doctor  had  set  out  very  early,  in  the  old  family  carriage  for  Philadelphia. 
It  was  soon  confirmed,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  for  the  matter  had  been  con- 
ducted in  brief  time,  and  principally,  if  not  entirely,  by  correspondence, 
with  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance.  He  took  breakfast  that  morning  with 
Dr.  Armstrong,  in  Trenton,  twelve  miles  on  the  way.  Dr.  xi.  felt  the  sub- 
ject to  be  of  a  delicate  nature,  and  forebore  all  allusion  to  it,  especially  as 
Dr.  Witherspoon  said  nothing  respecting  it  himself.  Dr.  W.  was  but  lit- 
tle in  the  habit  of  appearing  in  the  style  of  that  morning's  equipment ; 
probiibly  it  had  been  some  years  since  the  wheels  of  the  ancient  vehicle 
had  rolled  under  him.  To  make  out  a  competent  number  of  animals  for 
the  draught,  (less  than  four,  it  seems,  would  not  do,)  some  were  called  in- 
to this  higher  service,  from  the  more  humble  functions  of  the  cart  or  the 
plough.  It  could  not  be  expected,  therefore,  that  they  should  appear  in 
uniform,  as  if  they  had  been  originally  selected  for  purposes  such  as  that 
for  which  they  were  now  arranged.  As  speedily  after  the  dispatch  of 
breakfast  as  might  be,  the  visitor  and  the  visited  passed  to  the  door,  one 
for  the  continuance  of  his  journey,  the  other  to  show  honor  to  his  guest, 
as  well  as  gratitude  for  the  privilege  he  had  enjoyed.  For  truly  Dr. 
AYitherspoon's  conversation  could  multiply  many  times  the  pleasure  of  a 
breakfast  served  up  to  a  man  in  the  best  manner,  by  his  own  fireside,  and 
in  the  most  auspicious  circumstances.  As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  if  that 
can  properly  be  called  luck  which  the  circumstances  rendered  almost  in- 
evitable, the  first  thing  that  caught  the  eye  of  Dr.  Armstrong,  and  in  easy 
good  nature  prompted  the  tongue,  was  the  disparity  in  size,  color,  and 
form  that  reigned  luxuriantly  among  the  quadrupeds.  "Why,  Doctor,'' 
was  his  remark  in  pleasantry,  "  you  do  not  seem  to  be  very  well  matched. '^ 
It  will  not  appear  strange  if  to  one  upon  the  verge  of  being  a  bridegroom, 
at  any  age,  though  it  might  be  sixty-two,  which  happened  to  be  the  Doc- 
tor's, the  image  of  horses,  absorbing  as  that  might  be  which  was  furnish- 
ed by  his  own,  v/as  not  uppermost  in  his  thought.  And  this  might  espe- 
cially be  expected,  when  the  one  to  v.hom  he  looked  to  be  the  bride,  was 
in  all  the  bloom  and  fullness  of  two  and  twenty.  That,  therefore,  befell 
which  the  two  friends  had  most  studiously,  and  till  this  very  last  moment, 
successfully  eluded.     The  one  spoke  of  horses,  the  other  thought  of  niatri- 


mony;  and  the  reply  of  the  Doctor  was,  "I  neither  give  advice,  nor  do  I 
take  any/'  This  was  said  as  he  ascended  into  the  vehicle,  and  both  the 
coachman  and  his  animals  commenced  their  respective  functions  with  an 
action  commensurate  with  their  energies. 

A  few  days  elapsed,  and  one  morning  it  was  whispered  anjong  the  stu- 
dents that  on  the  previous  evening  the  Doctor  had  returned  with  his  bride. 
This  was  at  first  offered  in  the  shape  of  a  surmise  onty.  But  such  a  sub- 
ject could  not  be  permitted  to  rest  without  more  light  than  A\hat  the  night 
had  thrown  upon  it.  It  was  soon  ascertained  to  be  a  fact,  and  a  few  of  us 
were  forthwith  deputed  to  solicit  the  intermispion  of  business  for  a  day  at 
least,  that  we  might  all  manifest  our  joy,  and  do  honor  to  the  occasion. 
'We  soon  arrived  near  the  Doctor's  mansion,  and  while  vre  were  yet  some 
distance  from  the  door,  he  presented  himself  for  our  reception.  We  were 
not  a  little  delighted  to  be  greeted  with  a  welcome  beyond  v/hat  we  felt 
ourselves  assured  in  anticipating.  We  were  invited  with  a  flow  of  feel- 
ing such  as  we  had  never  observed  in  the  Doctor,  to  enter,  and  then  ad- 
vancing to  the  side-board,  to  join  with  him  in  a  glass  of  wine,  which  need- 
ed not  to  have  been  so  well  selected  as  it  was,  to  prove  to  us  highly  pala- 
table and  cheering.  Being  commended  to  drink  to  the  health  of  the 
bride,  we  answered  by  uniting  that  of  the  bridegroom  also,  with  a  respect- 
ful wish,  and  I  am  sure  an  ardent  one  too,  flowing  from  the  bottom  of  our 
hearts,  for  their  happiness  through  many  years  to  come.  We  informed 
him  that  we  appeared  on  the  part  of  the  college  to  ask  some  release  from 
ordinary  business  on  an  occasion  so  gratifying  to  us  all,  and  that  we  might 
have  opportunity  of  manifesting  our  joy.  "  Yes,  by  all  means,  if  it  is  your 
wish,^'  was  the  reply.  "  At  such  a  time  as  this,  we  must  admit  a  suspen- 
sion of  business  for  two  days  at  least,  if  not  three."  In  the  length  of  time 
spoken  of,  a  discovery  was  made  of  something  beyond  our  most  sanguine 
expectations.  It  was  one,  as  may  be  supposed,  in  which  we  could  see 
nothing  to  mar  our  satisfaction.  We  were  delighted  to  the  full,  and  though 
we  could  not  press  him  to  our  bosoms,  he  found  his  way  to  our  hearts. 
We  took  our  leave  with  grateful  expressions,  and  hastened  back  with  the 
tidings  to  our  fellow  students. 

At  the  close  of  the  third  day,  a  large  piece  of  ordnance,  a  thirt3'-six 
pounder  I  think,  which  was  a  relict  of  the  Revolutionary  contest,  had 
been  brought  up  and  placed  before  the  college.  At  the  first  fire,  as  a  sig- 
nal, the  whole  front  appeared  illuminated  as  in  an  instant :  at  the  second, 
in  an  hour  or  tvro  afterwards,  the  light  was  as  suddenly  extinguished.  This 
was  the  conclusion  of  the  three  days  allowed  us,  falling  little  short  in  hil- 
arity of  feeling  to  our  young  bosoms,  of  that  which  had  been  excited  in 
older  minds  six  years  before,  when  intelligence  was  received  that  definite 
articles  of  peace  had  been  signed  at  the  British  court,  recognizing  the 


)  40 

independence  of  these 'United  States.  I  have  related  these  incidents  of  a 
college  life,  because  •  to  some  they  may  be  amusing,  who  have  been  them- 
selves familiar  with  it :  to  others  who  have  not,  they  will  serve  as  speci- 
mens of  the  manner  in  which  students  live,  or  may  be  affected  in  their 
peculiar  circumstances. 

It  is  a  question  which  may  easily  occur,  whether  the  youth  is  happier 
who  passes  his  early  years  in  a  University,  or  he  who  is  reared  to  an  occu- 
pation vrhich  through  the  game  period  calls  him  to  bodily  labor.  The  in- 
quiry may  be  extended  to  the  whole  of  life.  It  may  be  asked  whether 
any  one  has  a  greater  prospect  of  enjoyment  in  a  life  of  diligent  mental 
or  corporeal  occupation.  As  to  indolence  or  unfaithfulness  in  the  prose- 
cution of  either,  they  are  not  to  be  brought  into  view,  both  because  they 
are  unworthy  of  our  consideration,  and  if  mixed  with  the  subject,  must 
make  it  vrholly  indefinite.  It  is  certainly  very  common  with  students  to 
])ant  afcer  the  privileges  of  a  rural  life ;  and  perhaps  it  is  no  less  so  for 
the  son  of  the  farmer,  who  is  constrained  to  daily  toil,  as  every  one  ought 
to  be  Vvho  io  to  follow  that  profession,  to  feel  convinced  that  the  opportu- 
nities of  a  liberal  education  would  crown  his  utmost  wishes.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  the  uuhappiness  of  each  is  chiefly  due,  not  to  the  nature  of  his 
business,  but  to  the  indulgence  of  an  unsettled  mind,  and  of  complaint 
against  the  renewed  exertion  and  confinement  that  return  upon  him  in 
uninterrupted  continuance.  Each  of  them  knows  and  feels  his  own  diffi- 
culties and  discontents,  and  it  is  through  these  that  his  conclusion  is  drawn 
unfavorably  to  his  own  employment.  Each  looks  at  the  occupation  of  the 
other  through  imagination  only.  This  selects  tiie  objects  and  colors  of 
the  picture,  and  he  longs  for  the  pleasures  on  which  his  eye  is  directed, 
without  having  forced  upon  his  feelings  the  toils  and  solicitudes  which  ex- 
perience would  teach  him  to  be  inseparable  from  them.  An  actual  sub- 
jection to  these  would  soon  convince  him  that  nothing  was  gained  by  the 
exchange,  were  he  allowed  to  make  it.  The  true  secret  of  human  happi- 
ness, so  far  as  profession  is  concerned,  is  probably  to  be  seen,  not  so  much 
in  the  employment,  as  in  that  discipline  over  ourselves  which  by  directing 
our  efforts  upon  the  greatest  eificacy  and  skill  in  the  performance  of  every 
thing  we  would  ^o,  becomes  interested  in  the  result,  and  in  the  true  and 
efficient  means  of  its  attainment.  Let  not  the  farmer  or  the  mechanic, 
nor  let  their  sons  look  vvith  envy  upon  the  privileges  of  the  student. 
Placed  in  his  situation,  subjected  to  his  confinement,  and  to  the  same  rig- 
orous exaction  upon  his  mental  faculties  in  the  daily  task,  he  would  pro- 
bably soon  sigh  for  exemption  from  them,  that  he  might  be  replaced  in  the 
condition  which  he  had  deserted  with  fond  and  disappointed  calculations. 
A  student  sometimes  returns  hom.e  from  the  academy  or  the  college,  repin- 
ing or  clamoring  with  discontent^  and  soliciting  as  a  privilege  to  be  em- 


41 

ployed  in  some  manual  or  bodily  exertion,  rather  than  continue  under  the 
pressure  and  restriction  of  a  college  life.  He  is  perhaps  gratified  by  his 
parent.  A  short  trial  convinces  him  of  his  misapprehensions,  and  he 
eagerly  compromises  for  a  return  to  that  from  which  his  feelings  had  so 
strongly  revolted.  This  furnishes  no  evidence  in  behalf  of  collegiate  fe- 
licity, any  more  than  that  the  blistering  of  the  hands,  or  the  soreness  of 
the  muscles  by  the  labor  of  the  first  days,  would  prove  that  the  same  ef- 
fects and  the  sufi'erings  from  them  arc  to  be  borne  continually,  should  he 
addict  himself  to  labor  through  the  whole  of  life.  Before  we  can  be  enured 
to  any  species  of  industry,  some  uneasy,  if  not  painful  efi"ects,  must  be  ex- 
perienced. A  mind  unalterably  fixed  upon  its  purpose  will  find  these  to 
be  trifles.  Once  seasoned  to  its  occupation,  it  is  better  capable  of  deter- 
mining the  satisfactions  it  is  to  enjoy  in  the  choice  which  it  has  made. 
Nor  will  it  then  do  justice  to  its  own  election,  if  doubt  and  vacillation  be 
not  perfectly  excluded.  In  proportion  as  these  are  permitted  to  agitate 
the  breast,  they  will  prove  elements  of  dissolution  to  our  happiness.  All 
envy  at  the  imagined  superior  advantages  of  others,  all  repugnance  and 
fretfulness  at  the  obstacles  or  inconveniencies  that  meet  us  as  we  advance, 
are  an  unreasonable  quarrel  with  the  laws  of  nature,  and  the  determina- 
tions of  Providence ;  and  if  that  be  our  temper,  every  situation  and  every 
profession  will  harrass  us  with  their  occurrence  in  sufficient  numbers  to 
make  us  dissatisfied  with  our  lot.  One  who  often  counts  the  hours  that 
are  passing,  or  which  are  yet  to  come  before  a  release  from  his  business,  is 
likely  to  find  it  too  long  for  his  wishes.  Another  who  looks  to  the  objects 
he  is  bent  on  accomplishing,  will  be  apt  to  think  it  too  short,  and  instead 
of  abridging  the  day,  he  longs  to  extend  it.  The  one  who  improves  his 
time  with  diligence,  receiving  it  as  it  is  meted  out  to  him,  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  his  settled  purpose,  admitting  no  wavering  uncertainties  to  weaken 
or  tease  him  with  discontents  furnishes  a  third  description  of  character  ; 
and  which  of  them  is  likely  to  exceed  in  happiness,  cannot  be  difficult  of 
determination.  Let  not  the  student,  or  the  professional  man,  envy  the 
mechanic,  or  the  flirmer.  It  implies  that  he  wants  self-discipline,  and  if 
he  continue  long  unhappy,  the  fault  is  in  himself  and  not  in  his  circum- 
stances. Nor  let  the  person  whose  business  calls  him  to  muscuUir  action, 
imagine  that  in  literary,  or  professional  life,  he  would  be  more  highly  fa- 
vored. It  is  to  this  very  indulgence  of  an  uncertain  mind  that  he  owes 
all  his  miseries.  But  who  can  be  happy  without  reference  to  God  ?  How 
shall  any  man,  young  or  old,  rationally  hope  to  be  blest,  if  his  plans  be  all 
chosen  and  pressed  forward  without  the  admission  of  the  principle  that  He 
rules  and  must  be  consulted  in  all  our  affiiirs  ?  In  our  diligence,  our  dan- 
ger is  that  we  shall  rest  in  our  own  efficacy,  and  the  sufficiency  of  the 
world.     If  this  be  our  spirit,  it  is  essentially  an  error,  nor  is  it  one  of 

6 


42 

minor  consequence,  which  may  take  plaee^  and  j^et  we  make  our  way  with 
disadvantages  only.  It  is  an  error  more  fatal  to  our  plans  and  efibrts, 
at  least  to  our  happiness,  than  any  other  can  be.  This  would  appear  to 
carry  with  it  the  evidence  of  a  first  truth,  an  indisputable  axiom,  to  the 
judgment  of  the  most  enlightened  mind,  as  well  as  the  humblest  christian. 
The  man  who  admits  this,  not  merely  as  a  general  principle  when  he  hap- 
pens to  come  to  it,  but  habitually  and  practically,  in  his  meditations  and 
the  execution  of  his  plans,  will  find  himself  carried  forward  by  consistency 
to  a  complete  acknowledgement  of  the  gospel. 
^  After  a  continuance  of  four  years  and  a  half  from  the  time  of  my  join- 
ing the  senior  class  in  the  grammar-school,  we  were  graduated  in  1791, 
my  age  being  then  eighteen  years  and  a  half.  The  delight  I  felt  on  that 
occasion  must  have  been  excited  by  a  disenthralment  from  the  confining 
rules  and  the  ever-returning  responsibilities  of  a  college  life,  rather  than 
by  any  prospect  of  circumstances  more  exuberant  in  happiness.  My  edu- 
cation was  all  that  I  could  look  to ;  my  fortune  was  to  be  made,  and  not 
one  definite  object  was  before  me  to  give  direction  to  my  movements.  The 
gay  feelings  that  spread  through  m}^  bosom  were  overcast  by  a  sombrous 
aspect,  diffusing  through  them  a  pensiveness  that  sometimes  almost  op- 
pressed me.  I  had  always  been  successful  in  my  studies,  and  this  was  an 
encouragement.  But  my  views  were  altogether  indefinite ;  the  world  was 
before  me,  and  I  knew  not  how  I  was  to  get  hold  of  it,  that  I  might  bring 
any  ability  I  might  possess  into  action,  gain  advantages,  and  then  make 
them  avail  for  the  acquisition  of  more.  I  had  not  even  decided  the  pro- 
fession I  was  to  follow,  and  of  course  could  not  look  any  where  for  this 
species  of  preparation.  I  was  young,  however ;  my  spirits  were  cheerful. 
One  thought  in  which  I  indulged  was,  that  I  had  time  to  spare  before 
coming  of  age,  and  that  I  might  afford  to  pass  some  of  it  in  amusement, 
in  reprisal  for  the  long  confinement  from  which  I  was  now  emancipated. 
This  was  an  unhappy  mistake,  for  I  acted  so  much  upon  it,  that  the  im- 
provement of  a  year  or  two  was  lost ;  which  time,  had  it  been  faithfully 
applied  in  a  course  of  valuable  studies,  would  have  added  largely  to  my 
attainments.  I  went  to  reside  with  my  mother  and  brother,  who  were  now 
at  Black  River,  near  Flanders,  w^here  he  lived  as  a  farmer  upon  the  land 
once  my  grandmother's,  and  which  she  had  bequeathed  to  him  at  her  death. 
Some  months  passed  away  in  idleness,  or  little  better.  I  grew  weary  of 
it,  but  knew  not  what  to  do.  I  was  among  farmers,  and  yet  wholly  un- 
qualified to  participate  in  their  interests  or  occupations.  I  found  that 
capital  without  a  market  was  of  no  value.  They  looked  upon  me  as  a 
scholar,  but  they  had  no  use  for  scholarship,  and  I  was  in  danger  of  fal- 
ling into  disesteem,  if  not  contempt,  from  the  inefficacy  of  all  that  I 
possessed  for  any  profit  to  them  or  to  myself 


4^ 

At  length  it  wad  BUggestcd  by  some  of  theiii,  tliat  a  few  boys  in  the 
village  and  neighborhood  w^anted  instruction  in  the  languages.  It  was 
proposed  that  I  should  teach  them ;  and  so  weary  was  I  of  doing  nothing, 
that  I  took  refuge  in  the  employment,  though  I  thought  it  an  humble  bu- 
siness. It  was  an  easy  business  to  me,  and  I  took  pleasure  in  looking  again 
at  the  beauties  of  Virgil,  and  unfolding  them  to  my  scholars.  I  contin- 
ued some  months  to  do  this,  but  it  was  felt  to  be  a  matter  of  small  moment 
in  comparison  with  the  larger  and  higher  objects  of  imagination.  It  wa.s 
still  a  difficulty  to  know  how  to  get  at  them.  They  rose  up  in  numerous 
and  picturesque  forms,  but  in  my  youthful  inexperience  and  inability  to 
address  myself  to  men,  to  make  propositions  or  present  inducements  to 
them,  it  seemed  that  it  was  all  fancy  only,  which  I  began  at  last  to  think 
was  never  to  be  realized. 

Whatever  else  may  enter  into  the  purposes  of  the  young,  love  is  certain 
to  constitute  a  part.  Some  of  our  neighbors,  as  must  always  happen,  made 
a  figure  in  property  and  consequence  above  others.  Next  door  but  one  to 
ours,  was  a  family  of  this  description.  A  young  lady  was  of  its  number, 
who  I  found  began  to  fasten  upon  me  in  a  manner  so  pleasing,  that  I  had 
no  disposition  to  displace  the  thought  of  her  by  any  reflections  whicli 
might  be  at  variance  with  it  as  an  inmate  of  my  bosom.  My  morning 
w^alks  soon  came  to  be  decidedly  more  frequent  by  her  house,  than  in  the 
opposite  direction.  If  she  happened  to  be  visible,  which  was  not  unfre- 
quently  the  case,  as  northern  families  in  the  country  are  apt  to  be  in  the 
habit  of  bestirring  themselves  early,  my  eye  would  steal  glances  towards 
her,  which  would  serve  to  make  the  time  till  I  returned  home,  pass  with 
more  vivid  enjoyment  of  the  fresh  air,  the  scenery  around,  the  alacrity  of 
healthful  sensation,  and  the  enchanting  tints  difi'used  by  fancy  over  the 
fields,  and  every  subject  of  my  thoughts.  As  yet  our  intercourse  had 
been  but  infrequent.  "We  w^ere  both  young,  and  could  scarcely  venture 
to  think  of  a  matter  involving  such  serious  consequences  as  matrimony.  It 
was  to  our  early  minds  too  distant  to  be  realized.  Such  at  least  I  deemed 
to  be  the  state  of  her  sentiments,  from  her  manner,  so  far  as  I  had  ob- 
served it.  She  was  willingly  communicative,  but  rather  pensive  than  gay. 
Her  father  had  been  educated  for  the  ministry,  but  being  of  a  slender  con- 
stitution, and  somewhat  apprehensive  of  pectoral  weakness,  he  had  made 
choice  of  a  farmer's  life,  that  he  might  be  called  into  activity,  augment 
bodily  strength,  and  prevent  that  reaction  of  the  mind  which  might  over- 
power it.  Her  mother  was  an  excellent  wonum,  but  fell  much  short  of 
her  husband  in  sprightliuess  and  intelligence. 

At  length  as  my  w^alks  would  recur,  for  they  were  agreeable,  it  seemed 
observable  that  I  was  seldom,  if  ever,  disappointed  in  seeing  her ;  and 
when  she  appeared,  it  was  not  in  a  passing  manner  only,  as  at  firr.t,  but 


44 

when  I  came  into  view  her  movement  lingered,  her  eye  became  directed 
upon  mine,  which,  in  spite  of  a  repressive  fechng  of  modesty  to  which  I 
was  exceedingly  subject,  was  sure  to  be  turned  upon  her,  and  we  would 
almost  stop  under  the  influence  that  certainly  fascinated  me,  and  to  which 
I  could  not  but  flatter  myself  she  was  not  wholly  insensible.  If  the  wings 
of  Mercury  had  been  put  upon  my  feet,  I  could  not  have  felt  lighter  after 
observations  like  these.  My  heart  began  to  run  upon  this  object  with  re- 
newed interest  through  the  day.  And  whenever  the  thought  of  Miss 
0 returned,  the  probability  that  if  I  should  seek  a  more  intimate  ac- 
quaintance, the  proffer  would  not  be  declined,  excited  in  my  young  bosom 
trembling  emotions,  to  be  set  down  under  the  head  of  enjoyment;  for  time 
which  had  before  dragged  heavily,  now  glided  along  with  a  pleasing 
smoothness,  and  my  uneasiness  at  the  idea  that  I  was  making  no  headway 
towards  the  prospects  to  which  I  looked  with  indefinite  contemplation,  but 
determined  purpose,  ceased  to  torment  me.  My  walks  were  still  renewed, 
as  I  did  not  fail  to  be  gratified  with  the  appearance  of  her  who  was  now 
their  principal  motive,  I  loitered  as  I  drew  near,  and  when  the  bow  and  the 
good  morning  were  offered  with  a  smile  of  interest  and  complacency,  they 
were  returned  with  expression  and  manner  which  I  thought  I  could  not 
misunderstand.  I  stood  still  and  entered  into  conversation.  The  soft 
and  pleasant  tones  of  her  voice,  with  her  willingness  to  listen  and  reply, 
without  any  appearance  of  a  disposition  to  terminate  the  interview,  gave 
delightful  intimations  that  something  of  the  same  sentiment  was  alive  in 
her  bosom,  which  was  thrilling  in  mine. 

After  this  our  acquaintance  grew  more  intimate.  I  visited  the  family 
sometimes,  and  my  reception  implied  that  there  was  no  unwillingness  that 
my  visits  should  be  continued.  But  to  what  purpose  was  all  this  ?  was 
an  inquiry  which  began  to  press  much  upon  me,  and  to  occupy  my  thoughts 
BS  though  I  was  engaged  in  an  inconsistency  with  which  I  could  not  be 
satisfied.  I  had  never  given  up  the  idea  that  my  destiny  was  to  be  mark- 
ed out,  not  in  the  place  where  I  then  was,  but  somewhere  at  large,  in  some 
other  sphere,  for  the  one  in  which  I  then  moved  was  felt  to  be  of  dimen- 
sions too  diminutive  to  satisfy  me.  These  considerations,  though  thrust 
out  of  sight  by  the  force  of  my  first  youthful  experience  of  a  passion  that 
reigns  in  the  bosoms  of  all,  began  to  weigh  heavily  upon  me,  whenever  an 
approximation  to  the  final  issue  compelled  me  to  look  upon  it  as  but  a  few 
steps  before  me.  I  pretend  not  to  say  whether,  if  the  plan  of  a  matrimo- 
nial connection  with  this  young  lady  whose  charms  had  given  me  more 
knowledge  of  what  it  was  to  love  than  I  had  before  acquired,  had  been 
urged  to  a  determination,  it  would  or  would  not  have  been  successful.  It 
was  a  question  which  in  the  existing  circumstances,  I  felt  too  appalling  to 
bring  to  a  crisis.     Had  it  been  pressed  to  a  successful  conclusion,  it  would 


15 

have  undoubtedly  furnished  another  instance  of  Providential  disposition^ 
by  which  the  whole  course  of  my  life  would  have  been  permanently  di- 
rected by  a  turn,  as  upon  the  minutest  pivot,  into  a  channel  wholly  differ- 
ent from  that  in  which  it  has  flowed.  To  myself  alone  it  can  be  supposed 
a  matter  of  any  interest.  But  when  every  other  person  directs  his  eye 
upon  similar  instances  in  his  own  history,  in  which  circumstances  the  most 
trivial  have  given  a  shape  to  the  whole  of  his  subsequent  condition  in  the 
world,  the  reflection  becomes  obvious  and  impressive,  by  what  small  events 
Providence  guides  the  destinies  of  our  existence. 

While  in  this  situation  which  seemed  tending  to  a  crisis,  and  not  long 
after  its  last  peculiarities  which  had  been  so  delicately  interesting  to  me 
had  occurred,  I  received  notice,  I  scarcely  remember  how,  that  my  services 
as  an  assistant  teacher  would  be  acceptable  in  Elizabethtown,  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  State.  No  hesitation  was  felt  in  accepting  the  oIFer.  I  left 
Black  Hiver  forever,  my  studies  were  renewed,  and  the  opportunities  of  a 
polished  community,  and  Hterary  society  were  relished  more  exquisitely 
after  the  tedious  and  dismal  sequestration  I  had  sufi"ered.  My  compan- 
ionship, and  the  privileges  of  living  under  a  ministry  and  in  a  congrega- 
tion where  religion  was  highly  estimated,  and  its  impressions  were  often 
deeply  felt,  proved  the  means  of  turning  my  thoughts  and  affections  anew 
and  with  more  intensity  on  that  subject.  The  result  was  such  that  the 
question  of  a  profession,  which  had  never  yet  been  decided,  terminated  in  a 
conclusion,  if  God  would  sanction  it  with  his  grace,  that  I  would  commence 
a  course  of  studies  for  the  sacred  ministry.  With  much  diffidence  and 
apprehension,  I  entered  on  the  prosecution  of  these  subjects  under  the 
direction  of  the  Rev.  David  Austin,  then  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  con- 
gregation in  the  place.  A  relative  of  his  by  the  name  of  Sherman,  was 
my  companion  in  study.  My  obligations  both  to  the  uncle  and  the  ne- 
phew, for  their  personal  kindness  and  encouragement,  have  ever  been  re- 
membered with  the  deepest  and  most  affectionate  gratitude.  Poor  Sher- 
man, as  himself  told  me  some  years  afterwards,  in  a  letter,  renounced  Or- 
thodoxy and  espoused  Socinianism.  Other  events  afterwards  befell,  dis- 
tressing and  mortifying  in  their  nature,  which  were  successively  heard  of 
by  me  with  surprise  and  regret.  They  must  have  been  humiliating  to  liim, 
but  it  is  useless  to  repeat  them  here.  They  imply  nothing,  however,  that 
will  affect  his  moral  character,  except  it  were  true,  as  I  was  told,  that  he 
became,  at  least  in  some  degree,  intemperate. 

Some  months  after  commencing  the  study  of  Divinity,  it  was  proposed 
to  me  to  undertake  the  instruction  of  an  academy  at  Springfield.  To  ob- 
tain funds,  I  entered  into  negotiation  upon  the  subject.  The  gentlemen 
who  spoke  of  it,  appeared  to  me  at  first  rather  cool  and  reserved  for  my 
feelings,  for  their  manner  implied  some  apprehension  respecting  the  re- 


4G 

suit.  I  felt  and  manifested  more  independence  than  was  consistent  with 
my  circumstances,  for  it  was  really  a  matter  of  some  consequence  to  me  to 
\engage  in  the  business.  AVhile  we  were  conTersing  on  preliminaries,  and 
were  on  the  point  of  reaching  a  conclusion,  a  letter  came  from  Dr.  Smith, 
of  Princeton,  proposing  that  I  should  become  a  tutor  in  the  college.  As 
soon  as  these  gentlemen  were  aware  of  this,  they  manifested  no  small  sur- 
prise and  agitation,  and  their  urgency  grew  continually,  until  while  I  per- 
severed in  my  conclusion  to  accept  of  the  tutorship,  I  was  in  danger  of 
being  charged  with  improperly  disappointing  them,  as  though  a  contract 
had  been  already  made.  On  this,  however,  they  could  by  no  means  in- 
sist. I  asked  them  whether  as  friends,  they  would  advise  me  to  accept  of 
their  offer  in  preference  to  my  prospects  at  Princeton.  They  candidly  re- 
plied that  they  could  not,  and  so  we  parted  upon  sufficiently  good  terms. 
At  the  college  I  instantly  began  to  feel  the  vast  difference  between  the 
privileges  of  a  student  in  a  place  where  science  and  literature  were  the 
professional  occupation  of  all  around  me,  and  abroad  in  the  world,  where 
the  prosecution  of  these  objects  not  only  was  unsupported  by  a  communi- 
ty of  feelings  and  interests,  except  perhaps  with  one  or  two,  but  seclusion 
from  much  intercourse  was  indispensably  necessary  to  any  tolerable  suc- 
cess. In  the  midst  of  professors,  and  scholars,  and  libraries,  bent  upon 
as  great  attainments  as  I  could  compass,  having  a  taste  for  learning  and 
intent  on  qualifying  myself  liberally  for  a  profession,  I  was  happy  in  ex- 
patiating upon  classic  ground,  and  desired  nothing  so  much  as  the  very 
privileges  I  enjoyed  of  traversing  the  volumes  which  it  was  my  duty  to 
take  as  my  guides  to  the  ulterior  purposes  before  me.  Nothing  troubled 
me  so  much  as  an  interruption  of  my  studies.  This  had  been  much  the 
case  through  the  whole  course  of  my  education,  and  as  my  disposition  was 
in  general  kindly  towards  others,  I  never  could  well  understand  how  num- 
bers of  young  men  could  be  prompted  as  they  evidently  were,  not  only  to 
lavish  as  much  time  as  possible  in  idleness,  but  to  interpose  obstructions 
with  almost  a  spirit  of  malignity  and  persecution,  in  the  way  of  others  who 
were  studious  of  abstraction  and  improvement.  It  is  evident,  however, 
that  where  there  is  no  community  of  sentiment  among  men,  they  are  not 
satisfied  with  neutrality  or  indifference  toward  one  another,  but  grow  into 
opposition  and  even  mutual  hatred.  To  prevent  this,  self-discipline  is 
more  or  less  necessary.  Its  cultivation  and  establishment  through  society 
is  one  evidence  of  superior  civilization.  But  the  spirit  of  forbearance 
can  never  be  fully  comprehended,  but  by  the  exposition  of  the  gospel  to 
the  mind  and  the  heart,  not  in  their  ordinary  natural  state,  but  as  they  are 
made  capable  of  the  proper  feelings  of  this  virtue,  by  the  Spirit  of  Him 
who  revealed  and  illustrated  it  in  the  scriptures.  And  if  forbearance, 
which  is  but  a  negative  virtue,  cannot  be  known  and  felt  without  such 


47 

a  reformation,  much  less  can  the  spirit  of  that  positive  celestial  charity  ho 
supposed  producible  by  us,  which  binds  all  in  the  creation  that  arc  under 
its  influence,  to  the  throne  of  God  and  to  one  another  in  tics,  which  by 
his  own  formation,  are  the  certain  and  only  pledge  at  once  of  individual 
and  universal  happiness. 

The  same  variance  in  taste,  sentiment,  and  interest  is  exhibited  in  the 
little  society  of  a  college,  as  agitates  the  world  at  large,  through  its  com- 
munities and  governments.  There  is  no  condition,  indeed,  in  which  we 
may  not  learn  human  nature,  and  find  it  the  very  same  in  one  as  in  another. 
In  every  one  will  be  enough  of  the  evil  passions  and  obliquities  to  sicken 
or  wound  us  with  their  offensive  forms,  and  thanks  be  to  Him  who  pre- 
serves and  governs  this  vrorld  as  a  probationary  state  in  mercy,  there  is  a 
mixture  of  better  characters  and  qualities,  sufficient  not  merely  to  recon- 
cile us  to  the  evil,  but  to  create  attachments  even  in  the  best  of  men,  by 
which  they  cling  to  their  objects  as  with  a  dying  grasp. 

While  residing  at  Princeton  this  third  and  last  time,  an  incident  occur- 
red once  more  of  a  nature  to  impress  upon  me  awfully  the  perfect  uncer- 
tainty of  life,  while  we  are  in  the  height  of  its  enjoyments,  in  the  vigor 
of  youth,  and  when  the  peril  is  unsuspected  the  moment  before  we  are  in- 
volved in  it.     A  young  man  fully  grown,  by  the  name  of  Simpson,  was  a 
student  of  the  college.     It  happened  that  some  intimacy  grew  between 
us,  as  might  easily  be,  as  I  occupied  a  room  in  the  college  building.     In 
the  warm  season  of  the  year,  we  agreed  to  take  an  early  walk  to  the  usual 
place  of  bathing,  because  the  air  would  be  fresh,  and  we  should  be  with- 
out other  company.     Simpson,  though  of  full  size  and  age,  could  swim 
but  little ;  scarcely  with  skill  and  confidence  enough  to  venture  into  deep 
water.     It  was  different  with  me,  and  while  he  was  practising  in  shallow 
places,  the  freedom  and  repitition  of  my  passages  over  the  deeper  part^, 
there  was  reason  to  think  became  a  temptation  to  him.     In  setting  off 
from  where  he  was  to  pass  up  the  stream,  which  could  not  be  done  with- 
out swimming  further  than  he  had  ever  before  attempted,  I  called  out  to 
him  with  a  cheering  voice,  and  without  thinking  whether  he  would  make 
the  trial  or  not,  to  follow  on.     I  arrived  at  the  shallow  water  above,  and 
on  turning  round  was  surprised  to  see  him  arrived   at  the  middle  of  the 
deepest  part.     He  seemed  to  be  doing  very  well,  and  I  told  him  so  for  his 
encouragement.     Almost  instantly  afterwards  I  saw  him  place  himself  de- 
liberately in  an  erect  attitude,  and  descend  as  we  generally  do,  to  try  the 
depth  of  the  water.  His  appearance  was  so  much  that  of  self-possession,  that 
it  seemed  handsomely  done;  but  when  he  rose,  as  a  little  afterwards  he  did, 
his  person  shooting  almost  half  above  the  surface,  and  the  water  project- 
ing a  full  stream  from  his  mouth,  a  sudden  horror  seized  me;   F  saw  that 
he  had  given  out  at  the  time  when  ho  went  down;  in  his  confusion,  he 


48 

had  hoped  the  depth  might  not  be  too  great  for  him ;  it  was,  however,  far 
over  his  head,  and,  if  he  had  held  his  breath  at  all,  he  had  instantly  ceased 
to  do  so,  Without  assistance,  he  must  inevitably  drown,  perhaps  before 
I  could  get  to  him  to  aiFord  it,  even  if  I  were  able.  I  was  aware  of  the 
convulsive  struggles  of  a  drowning  man,  and  had  often  heard  how  dan- 
gerous. I  was  small  and  light;  he  was  larger  than  the  ordiuaiy  size  in 
bone  and  muscle,  and  had  the  appearance  of  unusual  strength.  The  mo- 
ment I  saw  him  in  that  desperate  situation  a  sudden  compunction  flashed 
through  me  for  having  probably  been  the  occasion  of  his  losing  his  life, 
when  I  so  rashly  spoke  to  him  to  follow  from  the  starting  place ;  and,  be- 
side this,  I  could  not  indulg^e  for  a  moment  the  thouo^ht  of  seeing  him 
drown  without  an  effort  to  save  him.  All  these  considerations  passed 
through  my  mind  in  far  less  than  the  time  necessary  to  their  utterance, 
for  we  think  with  almost  incredible  rapidity  in  such  extreme  emergencies. 
In  fact,  he  had  no  sooner  disappeared  again,  after  rising  out  of  the  water, 
than  I  was  on  the  way,  whatever  was  to  be  the  consequence. 

In  passing  to  the  spot  where  he  was  struggling  with  death,  I  observed 
that  he  still  continued  to  project  himself  above  the  water  from  the  bottom, 
as  often  as  he  sunk.  My  plan  forgetting  him  out  was,  to  avoid  his  grasp 
by  going  up  behind  him,  in  such  a  manner  that  by  reaching  out  my  right 
hand  in  front  and  taking  hold  of  his  left  arm  near  the  shoulder,  I  might 
exert  upon  him,  steadily,  as  much  force  as  was  necessary  to  support  his 
head  above  water,  and  so  push  him  forward  to  the  shore,  depending  on 
the  other  arm  and  my  feet  for  swimming.  This  method  was  thought  of 
on  the  way,  for  when  I  set  out  I  really  had  not  considered  how  the  object 
was  to  be  accomplished.  It  was,  I  believe,  the  third  time  of  his  appearing 
above  the  water,  when  I  was  so  near  him  as  to  arrive  where  he  was,  against 
the  next  time,  and  place  myself  for  taking  hold  of  him,  should  he  come 
up  once  more.  While  he  was  in  view  this  third  time,  I  called  out  to  him 
with  a  voice  exerted  to  the  utmost,  "To  let  me  alone,  and  I  would  get  him 
out.''  I  certainly  did  not  reflect  in  the  pressure  of  the  moment,  that  he 
might  as  well  have  been  expected  to  hear  me  and  follow  my  directions,  as 
if  he  had  been  in  the  remotest  extremit}^  of  the  globe.  He  arose  once 
more,  and  finding  myself  precisely  in  the  position  I  wished,  I  attempted 
to  grasp  his  arm,  but  as  I  might  have  anticipated,  it  was  too  large  for  one 
so  much  smaller  as  I  was  than  himself,  especially  at  that  part,  and  beside 
this  the  smoothness  occasioned  by  the  water,  and  the  convulsive  violence 
of  his  motions,  convinced  me  at  once  that  my  scheme  was  utterly  hopeless. 
He  went  down  once  more,  and  I  was  filled  with  horror  in  the  despair  of 
saving  him.  The  next  moment,  liowever,  I  felt  his  fingers  grappling  at 
my  legs,  xAih  such  an  indication  in  the  manner  as  shocked  me  with  the 
conviction  that  if  he  succeeded  in  layingshold  on  me,  which  had  novr  cvi- 


49 

dently  become  his  object,  we  must  both  drown  together.     In  an  instant 
I  was  in  the  utmost  stretch  of  exertion  to  escape  from  him.     Still  hia 
hands  now  and  then  continued  to  be  felt,  and  always  with  a  terrifyin"- 
violence.     I  was  convinced  that  I  had  swam  far  enough  to  be  out  of  his 
way,  and  could  not  imagine  how  it  could  be  that  when  I  was  persuading-- 
myself  that  I  must  be  safe,  his  contact  filled  me  with  fresh  alarm.     I  be- 
gan to  think  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  elude  him.     My  efforts,  how- 
ever, were  of  course  continued,  though  I  knew  nothing  of  the  direction  in 
which  they  were  made,  until  my  breast  struck  upon  the  sliore.     I  was 
surprised  when  this  occurred,  that  it  should  have  been  so  completely  in- 
visible to  me.     No  sooner  had  it  happened  than  turning  round,  I  saw  Simp- 
son standing  erect  upon  his  feet,  within  four  feet  of  me,  his  eyes  closed, 
and  the  water  shooting  out  of  his  mouth  in  a  copious  and  continued  stream. 
The  relief  felt  when  my  own  safety  was  ensured  was  as  great  as  it  was 
sudden,  but  how  exquisite  was  the  joy  when  I  saw  that  he  too  was  secure. 
While  I  had  been  making  my  way  to  the  best  of  my  ability  at  the  surface 
of  the  water,  he  had  been  instinctively  pursuing  hard  after  me,  though 
buried  under  it,  and  had  felt  the  bottom  in  the  same  moment  that  I  had 
touched  the  shore.     He  had  been  long  struggling  in  the  arms  of  death, 
but  to  my  astonishment  it  soon  appeared  that  I  was  much  more  exhausted 
than  he.     In  walking  half  the  mile  we  had  to  go  to  the  college,  my  strength 
was  wholly  gone,  and  sinking  upon  the  ground,  I  called  upon  him  to  give 
me  time  to  rest.     He  showed  no  extreme  debility,  but  seemed  able  to 
walk  the  whole  distance  without  any  such  distress.     My  system  certainly 
had  no  claims  to  the  strength  of  his,  but  although  while  in  the  water,  be- 
fore missing  my  aim  at  his  arm,  I  had  retained  perfect  self-possession ; 
from  the  moment  I  felt  his  clutch,  it  must  have  been  a  perfect  panic 
with  me,  and  my  powers  were  overdone  by  the  intensity  of  action  that  fol- 
lowed.    The  consequent  langor,  however,  was  not  of  long  continuance. 
Rest,  and  the  first  meal  produced  no  small  repairs,  and  the  pleasure  felt 
for  the  safety  of  us  both,  probably  hastened  the  system  to  its  usual  activity, 
so  that  by  the  next  day  the  efi"ects  were  no  more  perceptible. 

I  shall  not  think  it  worth  while  to  note  many  incidents  of  my  second 
continuance  at  Princeton,  except  that  I  was  called  to  act  as  tutor  in  the 
college,  and  one  other. 

In  the  tutorship  my  time  was  principally  occupied  in  giving  critical 
perfection,  as  far  as  possible,  to  my  knowledge  of  the  classical  authors 
which  it  was  my  business  to  teach.  This  was  at  once  my  duty  and  my 
delight.  It  may  be  supposed,  of  course,  that  my  qualifications  to  instruct 
were  not  questioned.  But  the  part  of  a  tutor's  office  which  consists  in 
government,  is  by  no  means  certain  to  run  parallel  with  knowledge  and 
the  ability  to  communicate  it.     This  was  the  occasion  of  much  solicitude^ 

7 


50 

and  of  more  trial  to  my  feelings  than  I  should  have  consented  to  bear, 
had  it  not  been  that  advantages  of  improvement  of  a  practical  nature  re- 
commended \%  and  that  the  necessity  of  funds  imposed  it  upon  me.  My 
feelings  were  always  delicate  and  sensitive,  and  this  put  it  easily  into  the 
power  of  those  to  whom  the  thought  of  being  under  authority  was  upper- 
most as  ungrateful  in  their  situation,  to  take  revenge  upon  the  unfortu- 
nate being  whose  indispensable  duty  it  was  to  enforce  the  rules  of  the  col- 
lege. No  provocation  was  necessary  to  call  into  action  a  spirit  of  mischief, 
tumult,  and  attack.  No  plea  of  necessity  for  quiet  to  the  success  of  study, 
or  for  decorum  and  respect  for  the  enjoyment  of  privileges  and  credit  in 
society,  was  of  sufficient  avail  to  repress  disorderly  conduct,  or  prevent  it 
from  growing  into  outrage  if  it  was  not  met  and  resisted.  He,  then,  who 
exercises  authority,  especially  over  the  young,  may  expect  to  be  unreason- 
ably assailed  by  some  at  least,  whose  study  it  will  be,  and  who  will  there- 
fore be  far  more  successful  than  in  prosecuting  their  education,  to  punc- 
ture his  feelings,  and  to  inflict  torture  upon  them  in  an  exquisite  degree. 
The  true  and  only  remedy  for  such  evils  is  forbearance,  cordial  solicitude 
for  the  real  welfare  of  the  young  whose  tuition  is  entrusted  to  us,  and 
unremitting  fidelity  to  the  obligations  binding  us  to  the  institution  that 
looks  to  us  for  a  conscientious  discharge  of  the  office  it  has  devolved  upon 
us,  and  for  which  we  have  made  ourselves  responsible.  The  instructor 
iu  whose  bosom  these  motives  are  habitually  alive,  may,  and  will  be, 
thoughtlessly  or  rudely  assailed  by  the  unfeeling,  the  discontented,  and 
the  unreasonable ;  but  his  motives  and  proper  character  will  be  irresistibly 
felt,  and  in  the  hour  of  trial  he  will  be  sustained  against  all  the  efforts  of 
obloquy  and  opposition.  It  i^  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  a  young  man 
acting  in  a  tutorship  to  know  at  all  times  the  estimation  that  attends  him 
in  his  personal  or  official  character.  Incidents  will  occur  to  make  him  feel 
himself  disparaged  and  depressed.  The  wounds  which  appear  intention- 
ally inflicted  upon  him,  are  apt  to  be  felt  much  more  deeply  than  accords 
to  the  real  merits  of  the  case,  and  if  the  officer  be  not  mercifully  inclined, 
he  may  easily  exceed  in  the  infliction  of  punishment.  The  conviction  of 
the  offender  in  his  own  mind,  and  his  reclamation  from  his  fault,  are  cer- 
tainly the  first  objects  of  a  teacher,  and  scarcely  to  be  relinquished,  until 
all  the  efforts  of  reason  and  affectionate  solicitude  have  failed,  and  the 
stubbornness  and  invincible  adherence  to  a  bad  cause,  after  time  for  reflec] 
tion,  have  decided  his  case  to  be  hopeless.  The  student  who  yields  in 
such  a  struggle,  furnishes  greater  assurance  against  future  disorder  or  mis- 
conduct, than  can  be  gained  by  a  treatment  that  aims  to  deter  by  severity; 
and  if  he  persist,  the  penalty  which  becomes  necessary,  will  ensure  all  the 
efficacy  which  it  is  the  proper  object  of  exemplary  discipline  to  secure. 
He  who  seeks  to  win  the  heart  upon  correct  principles,  will  with  difficulty 


51 


be  resisted.     If  he  even  be  met  in  return  with  rudeness  and  insolence,  let 
him  not  despair,  for  these  if  rightly  received,  furnish  fresh  pledges  of  final 


success. 


In  the  beginning  of  September,  1796,  I  set  out  upon  my  journey  to 
North  Carolina.     Mr.  Charles  Harris  of  that  State  had  been  acquainted 
with  me  while  he  was  a  student  of  Nassau  Hall.     It  was  but  a  year  that 
he  was  at  Princeton,  for  he  entered  the  Senior  Class  on  his  admission  into 
the  college.     So  little  had  been  our  personal  intercourse  with  one  another, 
hat  I  afterward  scarcely  remembered  that  I  had  ever  seen  him.     This  was 
about  the  year  1791.     In  1796,  the  University  of  North  Carolina  had 
commenced  its  business,  and  Mr.  Harris  was  acting  as  Professor  of  Mathe- 
-natics.     Having  determined  to  make  the  law  his  profession,  he  accepted 
ohe  professorship  for  a  short  time  only,  and  at  the  close  of  the  year  he 
was  to  relinquish  his  place  in  the  college.     He  had  understood  that  I  was 
in  the  tutorship  at  Princeton,  and  sent  me  a  letter  to  know  whether  I 
would  consent  to  be  appointed  his  successor.     I  was  as  incompetent  as  a 
child  to  determine  the  answer  I  ought  to  give.     I  could  do  nothmg  but 
refer  the  question  to  others  whom  I  supposed  better  judges,  and  whom  I 
had  reason  to  consider  as  my  best  and  sincerest  friends.     The  opinion  of 
most,  if  not  all,  was,  that  I  ought  to  accept  the  offer  if  it  should  be  made 
As  to  myself,  it  was  flattering  to  my  feelings,  and  presented  a  prospect  of 
respectable  and  permanent  income.     I  had  but  little  practical  knowledge 
of  men,  but  felt  quite  convinced  that  if  I  was  qualified  to  engage  at  once 
in  any  species  of  business,  it  was  in  teaching  rather  than  any  thmg  else. 
If  my  acquaintance  with  the  world,  even  where  I  had  grown  up  mto  it, 
was  but  small,  of  that  part  of  it  into  which  I  was  going,  it  might  be  liter- 
ally said  that  I  knew  nothing.     I  might  have  had  an  idea  that  some  dit- 
ference  was  to  be  seen  in  the  state  of  society,  and  in  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  people;  but  in  what  the  peculiarities  specifically  consisted, 
I  certainly  had  no  conception.     It  was  concluded  that  it  was  best  to  travel 
bv  private  conveyance,  and  after  bidding  an  adieu,  more  trying  to  my  feel- 
in  J  than  I  had  supposed  it  was  to  be,  I  found  myself  with  horse  and  gig 
on'the  road  to  Philadelphia.     I  stopped  at  Dr.  Armstrong's  in  Trenton, 
to  receive  from  him  letters  of  introduction  to  gentlemen  of  Hillsborough, 
in  North  Carolina,  where  he  had  resided  some  time  with  the  Ame^^^^;^ 
army  as  chaplain  during  the  Revolutionary  War.     Coming  to  Philadel- 
phia on  a  Saturday,  I  was  invited  to  preach  the  next  day  in  Dr.  Green  s 
pulpit  in  Arch  street.     On  Monday  morning,  one  or  two  elderly  gentle- 
men, who  appeared  incidentally  to  call,  began  to  say  that  they  had  under- 
stood  I  was  on  a  journey  to  another  part  of  the  country,  but  they  had 
started  the  question  whether  it  might  not  be  possible  and  expedient  to 
stop  me  where  I  was.     They  alluded  to  a  vacant  pulpit,  which  it  seems, 


some  suggestion  liad  been  made,  tliat  I  might  "be  invited  to  occupy  as 
pastor.  To  this  Dr.  Green  suddenly,  and  in  a  manner  somewhat  more  de- 
cisive than  was  agreeable  to  me  at  the  moment,  remarked  that  the  matter 
he  believed  to  be  totally  decided  :  that  I  was  on  my  way  to  Carolina,  and 
that  to  Carolina  he  understood  I  was  certainly  to  go.  It  would  be  to  no 
purpose,  therefore,  to  speak  of  plans  which  might  be  at  variance  with  this. 
My  disposition  was  exceedingly  pliant  at  that  age ;  I  had  been  accustom- 
ed to  look  to  others  for  determination  more  than  to  myself;  the  sugges- 
tion had  struck  suddenly  upon  my  ear;  my  mind,  it  was  true,  had  felt  it- 
self conclusively  settled  as  to  its  object,  and  although  there  was  an  instan- 
taneous and  involuntary  start  of  revolt  in  my  bosom  at  the  promptness 
with  which  Dr.  Green  undertook  to  pronounce  for  me,  the  matter  passed 
away  without  any  thing  farther  said,  and  the  next  day  I  again  found  my- 
self on  the  road.  The  gentlemen  who  had  entered  Dr.  Green's  house, 
and  commenced  with  the  remark  respecting  the  object  of  my  journey, 
which  they  had  learned,  I  knew  not  how,  undoubtedly  were  about  to  pro- 
pose that  I  should  remain  some  little  time  in  the  city,  to  give  further  op- 
portunity to  some  vacant  congregation  to  which  they  probably  belonged 
as  elders,  to  form  an  opinion  of  me  as  a  minister,  and  determine  whether 
they  might  not  give  me  a  call.  On  this  I  have  sometimes  ruminated,  as 
to  the  eifects  it  might  have  produced  upon  the  whole  aspect  of  my  life, 
had  their  proposition  been  listened  to,  and  followed  by  a  relinquishment 
of  my  prospects  in  the  South,  for  a  pulpit  and  a  congregation  in  the  city. 
It  has  impressed  upon  me  anew,  how  surprisingly  we  are  in  the  hands  of 
u  God's  providential  interposition. 

Should  we  place  an  elastic  ball  upon  an  immense  plain,  and  imagine 
a  motion  given  to  it  which  would  continue  through  the  distance  of  70 
miles,  and  that  it  was  subject,  every  now  and  then,  to  be  acted  on  by 
impulses  from  other  balls  coming  into  contact  in  all  various  directions, 
sometinies  laterally,  sometimes  obliquely  in  the  direction  of  its  motion, 
and  then  contrary  to  its  direction,  sometimes  in  the  same  line  against,  at 
other  times  in  exact  concurrence  with  its  course,  now  with  great  efficacy, 
then  with  an  action  scarcely  discernible,  it  would  be  a  question  of  no  easy 
solution,  where  such  a  rolling  body  was  likely  to  be  found  at  any  period 
of  its  motion,  how  far  it  would  have  proceeded,  or  in  what  line  it  would 
be  advancing.  It  would  have  set  out  with  an  impetus  originall}^  inqjurted 
to  it,  and  which  is  afterwards  its  own,  it  ever  continues  with  an  impetus 
forward,  and  these  have  a  share  of  influence  in  determining  both  its  dis- 
tance and  its  course,  but  it  is  only  a  portion  of'  influence  which  it  exerts. 
How  much  is  ever  depending  upon  other  influences  and  impacts  which  in 
continual  succession  are  meeting  it  on  every  side,  and  whose  arrival  both 
in  time  and  place  is  wholly  from  without  and  independent  of  itself.     Will 


53 

not  tills  serve  as  an  analogous  illustration  of  tlie  life  of  a  being  setting 
out  in  the  world,  and  advancing  through  it  under  the  controlling  power  of 
an  overruling  Providence  ?  Let  it  not  be  imagined  that  I  would  confound 
the  distinction  between  moral  and  physical  motives,  or  consider  them  the 
same  in  their  nature.  Were  this  true,  all  responsibility  would  be  taken 
away,  and  fatality  be  alike  applicable  to  the  material  and  spiritual  world. 
Moral  action  is  wholly  diverse  in  its  very  nature,  from  material  action,  and 
it  is  in  this  difference  that  we  forever  continue  accountable  for  every 
choice  we  make,  and  every  deed  we  perform.  In  this  very  circumstance 
we  see  the  wonderful  and  unsearchable  wisdom  of  God.  We  might  have 
been  made  acquainted  with  one  species  of  agency  only,  the  physical :  and 
then  every  result,  and  our  whole  progress  through  existence,  would  have 
been  with  no  more  accountableness  on  our  part,  than  the  ball  would  be 
answerable  for  its  position  or  direction  at  any  particular  moment.  But 
this  it  seems  is  not  the  only  way  which  God  can  devise  for  the  influences 
of  Providence.  He  can  connect  with  his  government  over  his  creatures, 
a  responsibility  as  complete  on  their  part,  as  though  any  exertion  of  power 
by  himself  were  wholly  excluded.  Who  shall  deny  this  wisdom  and  this 
ability  to  God  ?  All  the  issues  of  our  lives  are  the  result,  not  of  physi- 
cal necessity,  but  of  moral  certainty,  so  connected  in  us  with  freedom  of 
choice,  and  felt  with  a  conviction  so  complete,  that  when  God  judges  us, 
every  mouth  shall  be  stopped,  for  we  shall  know  that  our  [destiny  as  to 
happiness  or  misery,  has  been  of  our  own  framing.  We  cannot  choose  our 
own  circumstances  externally,  but  while  we  are  standing  in  them,  we  can 
choose  or  retain  our  principles.  It  is  by  these  that  a  character  is  impar- 
ted to  us  in  the  eye  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  it  is  with  these  that  he 
connects  our  happiness  or  misery  by  inviolable  conditions. 


NOTE 


[The  following  Note  was  written  by  a  relative  and  pupil  of  Dr.  Caldwell 
who,  it  seems,  intended  to  prepare  a  Biography  of  Dr.  C.  to  accompany  the 
Autobiography.  From  some  cause  he  failed  to  execute  that  intention,  and  the 
preface  to  his  biography  is  here  inserted  as  it  gives  the  motives  which  proba- 
bly actuated  the  writer  in  penning  the  Autobiography.] 

When  a  man  dies  who  has  filled  a  considerable  space  in  the  public  eye, 
there  seems  to  be  a  natural  and  just  curiosity  to  know  something  of  his 
private  history,  his  parentage,  his  education,  the  events  of  Providence  and 
the  personal  exertions  by  which  he  at  length  rose  to  merited  distinction. 
This  public  interest  in  the  history  of  a  man  who  has  been  snatched  by 
death  from  the  stage  of  the  world  where  he  was  acting  a  conspicuous  part 
may  be  turned  to  valuable  account.  The  memory  of  such  an  individual, 
who  was  of  late  the  object  of  love  and  veneration,  may  be  made  a  vehicle 


54 

of  much  valuable  instruction  which  would  never  have  obtained  access  to 
the  mind,  if  offered  in  a  didactic  form,  unembodied  with  the  narrative 
It  is  fortunate  when  the  subject  of  the  memoir,  himself,  has  left  us  authentic 
materials  for  the  history  of  the  earlier  and  more  obscure  part  of  his  life. 
The  development  of  all  that  secret  portion  of  a  man's  history  which  passes 
within  his  own  bosom,  the  geography,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the  figure,  of 
that  terra  incognita  which,  though  rich  in  veins  of  gold,  must  have  remain- 
ed always  unknown,  but  for  these  personal  disclosures,  has  often  been 
found  interesting  enough  to  make  amends  for  the  absence  of  incidents  and 
adventures,  and  has  rendered  Confessions  and  Autobiographies  the  most 
attractive  of  all  publications.  Such  an  advantage  the  writer  of  the  pres- 
ent memoir  enjoys,  having  found  among  the  papers  of  his  deceased  relative 
two  small  manuscript  volumes,  containing  an  account  of  his  life  till  the 
year  1796  when  he  set  out  for  the  State  of  North  Carolina,  at  the  invita- 
tion of  the  Trustees  of  the  University  to  become  Professor  of  Mathematics 
of  that  institution.  This  memoir  of  himself  it  has  been  thought  best  to 
introduce  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  found.  It  is  supposed  that  the  compiler 
of  this  volume  will  perform  his  task  in  a  manner  more  gratifying  to  others 
who  will  take  an  interest  in  perusing  it,  if  even  a  considerable  portion  of 
it  should  be  occupied  with  personal  narrative  and  private  reflections  rather 
than  with  sermons — a  kind  of  composition  with  which,  and  that  too  of 
first-rate  excellence,  the  world  i  already  so  full  that  there  seems  to  be 
little  use  in  increasing  the  ctock  All,  I  presume,  which  his  friends  and 
the  public  of  North  Carolina  wo'ild  desire  besides  the  personal  and  official 
history,  is  a  specimen  of  a  few  sermons,  which  together  with  that  may 
furnish  their  libraries  with  a  memento  of  the  man  who  was  thought  so 
great  a  benefactor  to  this  State  and  who  is  endeared  to  so  many,  as  the 
preceptor  and  guide  of  their  youth. 

From  several  passages  in  the  narrative  it  would  appear  not  to  have  been 
intended  for  the  public  eye,  but  only  designed  for  the  perusal  of  his 
circle  of  friends  and  to  furnish  authentic  materials  in  case  any  future  ac- 
count of  him  should  be  called  for.  The  reader  will,  therefore,  make  re- 
quisite allowance  for  any  want  of  care  in  the  composition  which  he  may 
discover.  The  complaint,  however,  will  probably  be  of  the  opposite  fault : 
too  great  formality  and  precision  of  expression,  which  it  must  be  con- 
fessed characterized  his  style  in  a  considerable  degree,  and  of  which  he 
could  not  quite  divest  himself  even  in  relating  the  familiar  transactions  of 
his  private  life.  But  although  the  reader  will  probably  remark  occasion- 
ally an  involved  and  circuitous  construction  of  his  sentences,  yet  he  will 
perhaps  admit  that  oftentimes  the  thought  is  given  forth  with  more 
strength  from  these  tortuous  involutions,  as  the  stone  from  the  sling,  de- 
riving impetus  from  its  numerous  gyrations. 


biography; 


A  very  brief  notice  of  the  early  circumstances  of  tlie  T,^niversity  ol" 
North  Carolina,  may  not  be  misplaced  or  deemed  impertinent  here,  as  Dr. 
Caldwell's  connection  with  it  began  in  its  infancy.  The  act  of  Corpora- 
tion was  past  in  1789  ;  but  little  efficient  aid  was  given  by  the  Legisla- 
ture of  the  State  towards  the  accomplishment  of  the  undertaking. 
Grants  of  escheated  property  and  of  certain  monies  due  to  the  State,  and  sub- 
secpently,  of  all  confiscated  property,  were  made ;  but  of  this  latter  source 
of  revenue,  the  Trustees  were  soon  afterwards  divested,  and  the  others 
were  never  very  productive,  except  in  Western  Lands,  the  value  of  which 
remained  for  a  long  time  little  more  than  nominal,  though  at  this  day 
constituting  a  splendid  endowment.  Private  munificence  compensated 
the  tardiness  of  the  public  benefactions.  Gov.  Benjamin  Smith  made  a 
donation  of  twenty  thousand  acres  of  land ;  3Iajor  Charles  Girard  be- 
queathed thirteen  thousand  acres,  and  numerous  contributions  in  money 
were  made  throughout  the  State,  which  enabled  the  Trustees  to  commence 
the  buildings  necessary  for  the  accommodation  of  the  students.  But  all 
these  resources  together  were  not  commensurate  with  the  magnitude  of 
the  enterprize;  and  the  College  struggled  through  a  very  feeble  infancy 
for  several  years,  until  a  development  of  its  resources  and  the  zeal  and  ener- 
gy of  its  friends,  brought  it  to  a  condition  of  more  maturity  and  stability. 
The  labors  and  constantly  increasing  reputation  of  Br.  Caldwell,  were  in- 
strumental, in  no  small  degree,  in  effecting  this  result;  and  he  was  per- 
mitted to  live  to  see  our  Institution  rising  from  the  humble  condition 
of  a  mere  Grammer  School,  progressively  through  all  the  successive  gra- 
dations of  usefulness  and  respectability,  to  the  high  and  honorable  station 
which  it  occupied  at  his  death  among  the  Universities  of  the  land.  May 
we  be  pardoned  for  adverting  here  to  one  article  in  the  Act  of  Incorpora- 
tion, which  seems  to  have  been  nugatory,  from  the  limitation  as  to  the 
time  annexed  to  it,  but  the  purpose  of  which  might  still  be  partly  carried 

*  This  Biographical  Sketch  of  Dr.  Caldwell  is  designed  to  illustrate  the  life 
of  that  great  and  good  man  after  ho  became  connected  with  the  University  of 
North  Carolina  in  1790.  His  early  life  is  modestly  narrated  in  the  preceding 
pages  by  his  own  hand.  We  have  not  liecn  aljlc  to  procure  a  more  copious 
narrative,  therefore  we  have  taken  the  liberty  of  re-publisliing,  with  verbal 
and  other  modifications,  the  last  part  of  the  admirable  "Oration  on  the  Life 
and  Character  of  Rev.  Joseph  Caldwell,  D.  D.,  L.  L.  D.,  delivered  in  1835,  by 
Professor  Walker  Anderson." 

8 


58 

into  effect  in  perfect  consistency  with  its  original  design.  It  was  enacted 
that  six  of  the  Halls,  attached  to  the  College  precincts,  should  bear  the 
Barnes  of  the  six  individuals  who,  within  four  years,  should  be  the  largest 
contributors  to  the  funds  of  the  institution.  It  is  probable,  that  with  the 
exception  of  Grov.  Smith's,  there  were  not  within  that  period  any  bene- 
factions of  such  an  amount  as  to  warrant  the  Trustees  in  giving  effect 
to  this  provisional  act  of  gratitude ;  but  the  magnitude  of  one  subsequent 
benefaction,  at  least,  may  well  redeem  it  from  the  penalty  annexed  to  its 
tardiness.  Of  the  eight  buildings  constituting  our  present  accommoda- 
tions, one  does  honor  to  the  name  of  one  contributor,  and  the  Chapel 
serves  as  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  another.  The  others  are  yet  un- 
appropriated; and,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  we  are  indebted  for  the 
largest  of  them,  to  funds  accumulated  from  individual  donations  by  the 
active  exertions  and  persevering  industry  of  Dr.  Caldwell.  He  has  been 
our  most  munificent  benefactor,  and  to  him  should  be  awarded  the  highest 
meed  of  honor.  Nor  should  the  labors  in  our  behalf  of  the  lamented 
Mitchell  go  unremembered,  when  we  come  to  christen  our  new  edifices. 
The  business  of  Education  in  the  University  of  North  Carolina  was 
commenced  in  the  early  part  of  the  year%795 ;  Mr.  Hinton  James  of 
Wilmington,  the  first  Student,  having  arrived  here  on  the  12th  day  of 
February  of  that  year.     The  first  InstMictor  was  the  Eev.  David  Kerr,  a 

Grraduate  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  assisted  by  Mr. Holmes^  in  the 

Preparatory  Department.  Very  shortly  aftervrards,  the  Professorship  of 
Mathematics  was  filled  by  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Charles  Harris,  of  Ire- 
dell count}",  and  a  Graduate  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  It  was  not 
the  intention  of  Mr.  Harris  to  engage  permanently  in  the  business  of  In- 
struction, his  views  being  directed  to  the  Profession  of  the  Law ;  and  when 
lie  accepted  the  Professorship,  it  was  with  the  understanding  that  he  was 
to  relinquish  it  at  the  expiration  of  one  year.  Mr.  Harris,  while  at  Prince- 
ton, had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Caldwell,  but  their  personal  inter- 
course was  so  slight,  that  the  latter  scarcely  remembered  that  he  had  ever 
seen  him.  His  recommendation  of  Dr.  Caldwell,  therefore,  as  his  suc- 
cessor, is  a  proof  of  the  high  estimation  in  which  the  latter  was  held  by 
all  who  had  an  opportunity  of  knowing  him,  and  is  a  forcible  illustration 
of  the  influence  which  undeviating  rectitude  and  close  attention  to  the 
duties  of  their  station  exercise  over  the  future  destinies  of  the  young. 

To  the  penetration  of  Mr.  Harris,  and  his  agency  in  fiUing  the 
Professorship  vacated  by  himself,  with  so  competent  ?u  successor,  North 
Carohnians  owe  an  eternal  debt  of  gratitude.  The  letter  to  Dr.  Caldwell, 
enquiring  whether  he  would  accept  the  Professorship  of  ^lathematics, 
reached  him,  as  we  learn  in  his  autobiography,  while  engaged  in  the  discharge 
of  his  Tutorship  at  Princeton,  and  employing  such  a  portion  of  his  time  as 


59 


could  be  spared  from  his  more  immediate  business,  in  fitting  liimself  for  the 
ministerial  office.     The  invitation  being  unsolicited,  was  unexpected,  and 
found  him  wholly  unprepared  with  an  answer.    The  question  was  referred  to 
his  friends,  who  were  supposed  by  him  to  be  better  judges  than  himself. 
They  advised  him  to  accept  the  offer;  and,  as  it  was  flattering  to  his  own 
feelings,  and  presented  a  prospect  of  a  respectable  and  permanent  income, 
he  yielded  to  their  advice,  and  accordingly  signified  to  IMr.  Harris  his  de- 
termination to  accept  the  Professorship,  if  it  should  be  offered  him  by  the 
Trustees   of  the  College.     The  appointment  was  made  by  an  unanimous 
vote  of  the  Board,  and  Dr.  Caldwell,  after  being  admitted  to  the  ministry 
in  the  Presbytel-ian  Church,  left  Princeton  in  the  beginning  of  Septem- 
ber 1T9G,  for  his  journey  to  the  South.     AYhile  passing  through  Phila- 
delphia, he  was  invited  to  preach  in  the  pulpit  of  Dr.  Ashbel  Green,  and 
made  so  favorable  an  impression,  that  inducements  were  held  out  to  him 
to  remain  in  the  city,  with  a  view  of  taking  charge  of  a  congregation 
there.     By  the  advice  of  Dr.  Green,  he  at  once  rejected  the  proposal  and 
pursued  his  way  to  North  Carolhia.     At  the  time  that  Dr.  Caldwell  be- 
came connected  with  the  University,  its  pretensions  were  very  humble. 
In  consequence  of  the  slender  patronage  extended  to  it  in  its  infancy,  it 
was  more  tlian  five  years,  as  we  have  seen,  after  the  incorporation  was 
passed,   before   the  business    of  instruction   was  commenced.     A  single 
building  of  two  stories,  now  known  as  the  East  Building,  was  the  only 
edifice, Imd  that  was  occupied  in  part  by  the  Preparatory  School.     Two  in- 
structors only  were  employed,  and  the  scale  of  studies   was  exceedingly 
contracted  when  considered  as  the    course  prescribed  by  a   University. 
Throughout  the  whole  establishment,  there  was  much  to  try  the  feelings 
and  ex'ercise  the  patience  of  those  to  whom  was  entrusted  the  task  of 
maintaining  its   discipline  and  communicating  instruction.     The  popula- 
tion of  th^  country  was  in  general  rude  and  uncultured,  to  a  degree  of 
which  one,  who  has  not  marked  the  progress  of  the  change,  will  find  it 
difficult  to   conceive.     The  young  men,  bringing  to  this  place  the  senti- 
ments  and  manners  which  they  received  from  the  associates  of  their  earlier 
days,  were  but  ill-prepared  for  that  quiet  devotion  to  the  pursuits  of  lite- 
rature and  science,  without  which,  the  apparatus  of  professors  and  libra- 
ries and   other  fiicilities  for  acquiring  knowledge,   can  be  of  little  avail. 
Among  the  early  associates  too  of  Dr.  Caldwell,  were  some  of  loose  prin- 
ciples °and  corresponding  habits,  who  threw  additional  obstacles  in  his 
way.     For  these  reasons,  the  early  part  of  his  connection  with  the  Uni- 
versity was  to  him  a  scene  of  severe  suffering  and  trial;  and  he  seems  at 
first  to  have  been  ready  to  yield  to  the  promptings  of  his  natural  mchna- 
tion,  and  to  have  retired  from  the  turmoils  and  perplexities  of  his  situa- 
tion, to  the  less  responsible  and  arduous,  though  humbler,  station  he  had 


60 

left.  A  record  is  found  on  tlie  Journal  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  at 
that  period,  of  the  resignation  of  his  appointment;  but  he  was  induced  to 
withdraw  it  immediately,  and  to  continue  at  his  unpleasant,  but  honorable 
post.  He  then  nerved  himself  with  fresh  resolution  to  encounter  the  diffi- 
culties which  lay  in  his  path ;  and,  by  the  exercise  of  an  untiring  devotion 
and  unshaken  fidelity,  aided  by  a  resolution  and  decision  of  character, 
which,  though  not  wholly  natural,  could  not  be  daunted,  he  at  length 
brought  the  unformed  mass  to  a  degree  of  order  and  respectability,  which 
none  can  fully  appreciate  but  the  associates  and  successors  to  his  labors. 
In  the  formation  of  his  character  as  the  presiding  officer  of  an  institution 
in  which  were  thus  met  the  wildest  clenients  of  insubordination,  we  see 
a  striking  illustration  of  the  effects  of  an  unwavering  determination  to 
walk  in  whatever  path  duty  may  point  out.  To  those  who  witnessed  the 
exercise  of  this  character  in  its  full  vigor  and  efficiency,  it  is  scarcely 
credible,  how  much  it  was  a  formation  of  the  circumstances  of  his  situa- 
tion, united  to  a  conscientious  resolution  to  make  himself  useful  and  hon- 
orable in  the  station  he  occupied.  Yet  we  have  the  best  reasons  for 
knowing,  that,  in  incipient  manhood,  he  'shrunk  from  every  thing  like 
sternness  and  the  rigid  enforcement  of  authority,  and  was  much  in  the 
habit  of  looking  to  others  to  determine  for  him  in  difficult  emergencies. 
His  career  at  Princeton,  it  is  true,  had  somewhat  broken  in  upon  this 
gentleness  of  disposition;  but  the  situation  of  a  subordinate  officer  of  a 
long  established  College,  was  widely  different  from  that  of  the  head  of  an 
Institution  such  as  ours  was  in  its  infancy,  and  called  for  the  exercise  of 
very  different  principles.  After  seeing  and  clearly  estimating  what  his 
new  station  demanded  of  him,  he  shook  off  every  opposing  habit  and 
feeling,  and  gave  himself  up  with  a  noble  resolution,  to  a  faithful  and 
diligent  discharge  of  its  duties.  Hov/  well  he  fulfilled  this  resolution, 
will  be  attested  by  many  a  grateful  heart  and  sympathising  bosom  through- 
out our  State. 

During  the  first  nine  years  of  its  existence,  no  one  of  the  officers  of 
the  University  was  distinguished  by  the  title  of  President.  In  1804,  Dr. 
Caldwell,  who  had  for  some  time  been  the  presiding  officer,  and  who  at 
all  times  subsefjuent  to  his  introduction  into  the  Faculty,  had  been  its 
master  spirit,  was  elected  to  the  Presidency.  He  had  then  been  recently 
married  to  Miss  Susan  E,owan,  of  whom  he  was  deprived  three  years  af- 
terwards by  death,  as  well  as  of  an  infant  daughter,  the  only  fruit  of  the 
marriage.  He  was  again  married  in  1809,  to  Mrs.  Hooper,  who  survived 
him.  The  limits  prescribed  for  this  article,  will  not  admit  of  any  ex- 
tended detail  of  the  incidents  of  the  period  of  Dr.  Caldwell's  life  subse- 
quent to  his  elevation  to  the  Presidency,  if  indeed  it  were  necessary;  but 
they  arc  best  known  from  their  results,  so  richly  scattered  over  the  whole 


Gl 

face  of  our  land,  and  so  manifest  in  the  circumstances  in  wliich  our  insti- 
tution now  stands,  as  contrasted  with  its  feebleness  and  immaturity  when 
first  confided  to  his  fostering  care.  After  the  first  few  years  of  his  Presi- 
dency, the  reputation  of  the  University,  continually  advancing,  attracted 
so  man}'  students,  that  the  want  of  enlarged  means  of  accommodatino- 
them  became  very  urgent;  and  the  building  now  known  as  the  ^outh 
Building,  much  the  most  spacious  of  all  we  have,  and  containing  most  of 
the  recitation  rooms  and  lecture  halls,  was  commenced  and  prosecuted,  for 
some  time,  with  vigor.  But  the  Legislature  having  withdrawn  the  bounty 
it  had  before  extended,  and  divested  the  Trustees  of  some  of  the  sources 
of  revenue  originally  assigned  to  the  use  of  the  University,  left  them  un- 
der the  necessity  of  suspending  the  prosecution  of  this  work,  and  leaving 
it  in  a  condition  unfit  for  any  useful  application.  Two  years  longer  the  in- 
convenience of  narrow  accommodations  was  submitted  to;  but  the  still 
increasing  number  of  students  caused  the  want  of  the  additional  building 
to  become  more  and  more  pressing.  At  length  Dr.  Caldwell,  whose  inter- 
est in  the  institution  was  never  confined  to  the  faithful  discharge  of  the 
duties  of  his  peculiar  office,  requested  of  the  Trustees  permission  to  make 
an  appeal  to  the  liberality  of  the  friends  of  education  throughout  the  State. 
Nor  did  he  appropriate  to  this  business,  any  portion  of  his  time  required 
by  his  more  immediate  duties.  During  the  six  weeks  vacation  of  the 
summer  of  1811,  he  visited  such  parts  of  the  State  as  were  within  his 
reach,  and  having  headed  the  subscription  list  with  his  own  name  and  a  lib- 
eral donation,  he  obtained  the  sum  of  $12,000.  This  liberal  contribution 
enabled  the  Trustees  to  push  the  work  on  to  completion  and  thus  to  secure 
that  patronage,  which,  in  all  likelihood,  v/ould  have  been  soon  withdrawn, 
in  consequence  of  actual  want  of  room.  This  well-timed  relief  gave  a 
new  impulse  to  the  progress  of  the  institution  in  public  favor,  until  addi- 
tional buildings  were  once  more  needed  for  the  reception  of  students. 
But  the  resources  of  the  Trustees  had  become  more  ample,  and  more  suf- 
ficient to  provide  all  the  required  accommodations.  Having  removed  this 
impediment  which  so  seriously  threatened  the  prosperity,  if  not  the  very 
existence  of  the  University,  and  having  seen  it  grow  up  from  the  humble 
condition  in  which  he  found  it,  to  respectability  and  usefulness,  Dr.  Cald- 
well thought  that,  without  hazarding  the  interests  of  the  institution,  he 
might  now  yield  to  the  inclination  which  had  never  left  him,  of  devoting 
more  time  and  attention  to  study,  than  the  duties  of  the  Presidency  al- 
lowed him,  and  accordingly,  in  1812,  he  resigned  his  situation,  and  re- 
turned to  the  ^Mathematical  Chair.  Apart,  however,  from  the  preference 
which  he  felt  and  thus  indulged,  of  devoting  himself  to  the  task  of  in- 
struction rather  than  of  direction  and  discipline,  he  was  contemplating  the 
execution  of  a  literary  labor  in  which  he  took  much  interest,  and  which 


62 

remuiiis  as  a  monument  of  liis  skill  in  adapting  the  details  of  an  abstruse 
science  to  tlie  comprehension  of  the  young.  We  allude  to  his  work  on 
Geometry,  which,  though  not  published  for  some  years  afterwards,  (1822) 
engaged  much  of  his  attention  and  time  during  the  interval  which  elapsed 
between  his  retirement  from  the  Presidency  and  his  reluctant  resumption 
of  it  in  1817.  The  subject  is  one  which,  in  the  ablest  hands,  does  not  at 
the  present  day  admit  of  much  that  is  strictly  original.  The  most  skil- 
ful mathematician  who  undertakes  a  work  of  this  kind,  must  content 
himself  with  moulding  into  new  forms  the  materials  handed  down  lo  him  by 
writers  of  other  times,  and  with  introducing  occasionally  a  demonstration 
that  is  new,  more  lucid,  or  more  direct  and  brief.  The  object  proposed 
by  Dr.  Caldwell  in  this  publication,  was  to  produce  a  system  less  extend- 
ed and  tedious  than  that  of  Euclid^  but  comprising  all  the  capital  propo- 
sitions of  that  Geometer,  and  retaining,  throughout  his  strict  and  rigid 
methods  of  demonstration — an  object  which  he  will  be  allowed  by  all  com- 
petent judges  to  have  well  and  happily  accomplished.  Upon  his  resigna- 
tion of  the  Presidency,  Pr.  Robert  Chapman  was  selected  by  the  Trus- 
tees as  his  successor.  After  holding  the  office  for  five  years,  Pr.  Chap- 
man retired  in  1817,  and  Pr.  Caldwell  was  induced  to  resume  the  situa- 
tion, which  he  continued  to  hold  during  the  remainder  of  his  life^  though 
not  without  making  efforts  to  resign  it.  The  distinguished  success  which 
•atfended  his  labors  did  not  fail  to  attract  attention  from  abroad,  as  it 
excited  the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  the  friends  of  the  University  at 
home.  In  1816,  the  Trustees  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  his  alma 
mater,  conferred  on  him,  by  an  unanimous  vote,  the  degree  of  Poctor  of 
Pivinity.  xVnd  subsequently  inducements  were  lield  out  to  him  by  at 
least  two  respectable  Colleges  to  change  his  situation  j  but  he  clung  to 
our  College  with  a  paternal  devotion,  commensurate  with  the  obligations 
it  owed  him ;  and,  with  a  determination  which  appears  to  have  been 
formed  very  soon  after  his  first  connection  with  it,  he  resisted  every  at- 
tempt to  draw  him  to  a  more  lucrative  appointment. 

After  his  re-appointment  to  the  Presidency,  he  pui sued  the  even  tenor 
of  his  way,  dispensing  intellectual  and  moral  good  tlirough  all  our  bor- 
ders. One  event,  with  its  auspicious  consequences,  vv'ill  detain  us  a  few 
moments,  before  we  come  reluctantly  to  that  solemn  period,  when  the 
shadows  of  the  grave  began  to  gather  over  his  bright  and  benificent  ca- 
reer. The  Trustees  having  determined  to  add  to  the  facilities  for  im- 
provement already  enjoyed  by  the  students  of  the  University,  a  Philoso- 
phical apparatus,  and  additional  volumes  for  the  Library,  Pr.  Caldwell^ 
entrusting  the  temporary  supervision  of  the  College  to  the  Senior  Profes- 
sor who  deservedly  possessed  his  and  the  public's  entire  confidence,  visited 
Europe,  in   order  to   direct,  in   person,  the  constuction  of  the  apparatus, 


and  the  selection  of  the  books.  lie  sailed  from  this  country  in  the  month 
of  April,  182-1,  and  landing  at  Liverpool,  proceeded  immediately  to  J^on- 
don,  to  accomplish  the  object  of  his  voyage.  After  having  put  the  busi- 
ness in  a  train  that  promised  to  lead  to  its  speedy  completion,  he  passed 
over  into  France ;  and  traversing  that  country,  by  the  route  of  Paris  and 
Lyons,  after  visiting  the  Lower  Alps,  passed  through  the  western  part  of 
Switzerland  and  Germany,  and  proceeded  down  the  llhine  as  far  as 
Frankfort,  whence  he  returned  to  London.  Subsequently,  he  visited 
Scotland ;  and  at  length  returned  to  this  country,  after  an  absence  of 
ten  months.  The  fidelity  and  skill  with  which  he  discharged  the  trust 
confided  to  him  by  the  Trustees,  are  abundantly  attested  by  the  excellence 
of  the  apparatus  which  now  occupies  our  lecture  rooms,  and  by  the  value 
of  the  addition  made  to  our  library.  But  far  the  most  interesting  result 
of  his  visit  to  Europe,  was  the  strong  feeling  excited  in  his  mind  on  the 
subject  of  internal  improvement — a  subject,  which  perhaps  engrossed 
more  of  his  thoughts  during  some  of  the  last  years  of  his  life,  than  a^y 
thing  else  connected  with  this  world.  The  sound  practical  views  which 
he  entertained  on  the  introduction  of  this  system  into  our  own  State,  and 
which  are  ably  and  clearly  set  forth  in  the  numbers  of  Carlton,  have 
commanded  the  admiration  of  every  enlightened  citizen;  and  the  zeal 
with  which  he  advocated  it  on  every  suitable  occasion,  and  long  after 
disease  had  impaired  the  energies  of  his  body,  must  secure  him  the  last- 
ing gratitude  of  every  true  friend  of  his  couutry.  It  is  well  known,  that 
the  magnificent  project  of  a  railroad  to  reach  from  Beaufort  to  the  moun- 
tains, originated  with  him,  and  was  advocated  with  such  ability  as  to  have 
rendered  it  a  favorite  measure  of  State  policy  with  some  of  the  most  en- 
lightened and  devoted  patriots  of  our  land  long  before  his  death,  and 
finally  led  to  the  construction  of  the  N.  C.  Central  and  Atlantic  and  X. 
C.  Railroads. 

The  first  access  of  the  disease  by  which  Dr.  Caldwell's  life  was  finally 
brought  to  a  close,  occurred  in  1828  or  1829 ;  after  which  period,  as  he 
states  in  a  note  made  in  1831,  he  was  never  in  the  enjoyment  of  good 
health.  Nearly  the  whole  of  the  six  or  seven  years  which  elapsed  before 
the  termination  of  his  sufferings,  was  a  period  of  unremitted  uneasiness; 
during  a  considerable  part  of  it  his  bodily  sufferings  were  severe,  and 
often,  he  was  the  victim  of  excruciating  pain.  He  seldom  spoke  on  the 
subject  even  to  his  most  intimate  friends  ;  and  having  a  singular  power 
of  subduing  and  controling  his  emotions,  he  would  often  wear  upon  hig 
countenance  a  calmness  and  serenity,  that  indicated  to  a  stranger,  an  en- 
joyment of  the  blessings  of  existence ;  when,  to  those  better  acquainted 
with  him,  it  would  be  revealed  by  some  involuntary  movement,  that  this 
appearance  of  ease  and  comfort,  was  not  maintained  without  a  powerful 


G4 

struggle.     But  the  triumpli  wliich  disease  was  tlius  achieving  over  the 
body,  did  not,  till  the  very  last  hours  of  his  existence,   extend  to  the 
faculties  of  his  mind,  or  impair,  in  the  slightest  degree,  the  devotedness 
of  the  interest  with  which  he  cherished  the  institution,  that  for  so  many 
years  had  been  the  object  of  his  fostering  care.     It  is  true,  that  within 
the  last  two  years  of  his  life,  when  acute  and  unceasing  suffering  disabled 
him  from  taking  his  wonted   share  in  the  business   of  instruction,  he 
proffered  to  the  Trustees  the  resignation  of  his  office  of  President;  but  it 
was  under  an  apprehension  that  he  was  becoming  an  incumbrance  to  the 
College,  and  would  not  be  able  to  make  a  full  return  of  service  for  the 
salary  attached  to  his  station.     That  honorable  body  with  a  liberality  and 
feeling  of  gratitude  worthy  of  them  and  of  him,  resisted  the  attempt 
made  by  him  to  surrender  the  trust  he  had  received  from  their  predeces- 
sors.    But  to  relieve  him  from  the  task  of  instruction,  and  to  secure  to 
him  the  leisure  and   tranquility  which  his  age  and  infirmities  demanded, 
they  established    an    Adjunct   Professorship,   to   provide  for  his  entire 
withdrawal  from  the  labors  of  his  station.     The  individual  selected  by  Dr. 
Caldwell   himself  to  fill    this    professorship.    Walker   Anderson,  A.  M., 
brought  to  the  filial  task,  a  heart  full  of  veneration  and  love,  and  a  reso- 
lution to  fulfil  to  the  uttermost  the  pious  purpose  of  the  Trustees.     But 
though  provision  was  thus  made,  by  the  character  of  the  professorship 
and  the  disposition  of  its  incumbent,  for  the  entire  release  of  Dr.  Caldwell 
from  the  business  of  instruction,  he  could  not  be  induced  to  avail  himself 
of  the  indulgence  to  the  extent  proposed,  but  resolutely  persevered,  till 
within  three  days  of  his  death,  in  performing  as  much  labor  as  his  fast 
declining  strength  was  equal  to.     One  half  of  the  ordinary  duties  of  his 
professorship  he  reserved  to  himself,  and  manifested  a  settled  purpose  to 
abide  by  this  arrangement,  by  assigning  to  his  adjunct,  in  addition  to  the 
other  half,  a  portion  of  the  general  business  of  the  College.     Though  his 
frame  was  racked  with  unremitting  pain,  and  worn  and  wasted  by  sleep- 
less and  tortured  nights,  yet  on  no  occasion,  except  during  an  attendance 
on  the  Presbytery  to  which  he  belonged,  and  a  visit  to  Philadelphia  in  a 
fruitless  effort  to  find  relief  from  his  sufferings — on  no  other  occasion  did 
he  devolve  these  reserved  duties  on  his  associate,  though  often  and  earn- 
estly entreated  to  do  so.     "  Sepidchri  immemor,  struit  domos,."     On  the 
Saturday  previous  to  his  death,  he  retired  from  the  lecture  room   to  his 
bed,  from  which  he  never  rose  again,  but  under  the  impulse  of  his  mortal 
agonies. 

The  religious  character  of  Dr.  Caldwell  was  not  the  formation  of  a  day, 
nor  the  hasty  and  imperfect  work  of  a  dying  bed.  His  trust  was  anchored 
on  the  rock  of  ages,  and  he  was  therefore  well  furnished  for  the  terrible 
conflict  that  awaited  him.     We  have  seen  in  his  autobiography  that  he 


65 

liad  made  religion  tlic  guide  of  his  youth ;  it  beautified  and  sanctified  the 
kibors  of  his  well-sj^ent  life;  nor  did  it  i'aii  him  in  the  trying  hour,  whicli 
an  all-wise  but  inscrutable  providence  permitted  to  be  to  him  peculiarly 
dark  and  fearful.  The  rich  consolations  of  his  faith  became  brighter  and 
stronger,  amidst  the  wreck  of  the  decaying  tabernacle  of  flesh ;  and,  if 
the  dying  testimony  of  a  pure  and  humble  spirit  may  be  received,  death 
had  for  him  no  sting — the  grave  achieved  no  triumph.  In  any  frequent 
and  detailed  account  of  his  religious  feelings,  he  was  not  inclined  to  in- 
dulge— the  spirit  that  walks  most  closely  with  its  God,  needs  not  the 
sustaining  influence  of  such  excitements — yet  a  few  weeks  previous  to  his 
death,  a  friend  frgni  a  distant  part  of  the  State  calling  to  see  him,  made 
inquiries  as  to  the  state  of  his  mind,  and  had  the  privilege  of  hearing 
from  him  the  calm  assurance  of  his  perfect  resignation  and  submission  to 
the  will  of  God.  His  hope  of  happy  immortality  beyond  the  grave,  was 
such  as  belongs  only  to  the  Christian,  and  by  him  was  modestly  and  hum- 
bly, but  confidently  entertained.  It  was  to  him  a  principle  of  strength 
that  sustained  him  amidst  the  conflicts  of  the  dark  valley,  and  to  those 
who  witnessed  the  agonies  of  his  parting  hour,  a  bright  radiance  illuming 
the  gloom  which  memory  throws  around  the  trying  scene.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  24th  of  January,  1835,  his  terrible  disease  made  its  last 
ferocious  assault,  with  such  violence,  that  he  knew  that  his  hour  of  release 
was  at  hand.  He  gratefully  hailed  the  anxiously  expected  period,  and 
his  house  having  long  since  been  set  in  order,  he  withdrew  his  thoughts 
from  earthly  objects,  and  calmly  looked  upon  that  futurity  to  whose  verge 
he  was  come.  By  the  exercise  of  prayer  and  other  acts  of  the  holy  reli- 
gion which  he  professed,  he  strengthened  him  for  the  last  conflict,  and 
spoke  words  of  consolation  and  hope,  to  his  sorrowing  friends.  Eut  death 
was  yet  to  be  indulged  with  a  brief  triumph,  and  for  three  days  his  suf- 
ferings were  protracted  with  such  intensity,  that  his  vigorous  and  well 
balanced  mind  sank  beneath  the  contest.  We  willingly  drop  the  veil 
over  the  bitter  recollections  of  that  hour,  and  take  refuge  in  those  high 
and  holy  hopes,  which  were  the  last  objects  of  his  fading  consciousness, 
and  which  had  lent  to  the  long  twilight  of  his  mortal  career,  some  of  the 
light  of  that  heaven  to  which  they  had  directed  his  longing  gaze.  To  no 
one  who  lived  at  that  time,  need  we  tell  of  the  universal  and  heartfelt 
sorrow,  with  whicli  the  intelligence  of  Dr.  Caldwell's  death  was  received 
throughout  the  State.  Multitudes  there  were,  who  felt  that  they  had 
been  deprived  of  a  personal  benefactor — of  one,  whose  kindness  and  the 
value  of  whose  services  to  them,  are  more  and  more  valued,  as  increasing 
experience  points  out  the  worth  of  those  labors  which  the  young  can  never 
fully  appreciate.  The  Trustees  of  the  University,  more  than  one  half  of 
whom  had  been  students  of  the  institution  while  under  his  charge,  be- 

9 


66 

came  the  organs  of  the  public  sentiment,  in  the  expression  of  the  general 
grief.  Some  of  them,  with  alumni  and  others  from  abroad,  mingled  in 
the  train  of  the  bereaved  officers  and  members  of  the  College,  in  commit- 
ting to  the  dust  all  that  remained  to  them  of  their  departed  Father.  All 
that  remained,  did  we  say  ?  AVe  look  around  us,  and  stand  rebuked  for 
ihe  desponding  murmur.  The  labors  of  a  useful  life,  to  use  the  thought 
of  the  old  stoic^  are  like  things  consecrated  to  God,  over  which  mortality 
has  no  power.  ^^  Usee  est  pars  temjmris  nostri,  sacra  ac  dedlcaia;  quam 
no,i  inojiia,  non  metiis  non  morhorum  incursus  exagitat."  The  pure  and 
patient  spirit  has  long  since  escaped  its  narrow  and  tempest-stricken  prison 
house,  the  wasted  form  is  now  resting  from  its  sore  conflict,  in  the  blessed 
hope  of  a  joyful  resurrection,  but  those  consecrated  acts  of  his  useful  life 
remain  with  us,  to  spread  their  benificent  influence  through  successive 
generations.  It  is  trite  remark  to  speak  of  the  ever-renewed  efi"ects  of 
such  an  influence  -,  but  calm  observation  and  reflection  abundantly  sanc- 
tion the  warm  effusions  of  our  grateful  admiration.  The  benefits  received 
from  a  faithful  instructor  and  guide  of  our  youth,  are  not  only  transmitted 
to  cur  children,  but  through  our  whole  lives  exert  a  diffusive  influence 
throughout  the  sphere  in  which  we  move.  "We  may  say,  therefore,  with- 
out the  fear  of  contradiction,  that  the  whole  present  generation  of  the 
citizens  of  North  Carolina  owe  to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Caldwell,  gratitude 
as  well  as  admiration;  and  that  we  are  indebted  to  his  agency,  directly  or 
indirectly,  more  than  to  any  other  inditidual,  for  the  very  remarkable 
change  that  has  taken  place  in  the  moral  and  intellectual  character  of  our 
State  within  the  last  sixty  years.  We  speak  not  only  of  the  fruits  of  his 
labors,  as  a  faithful  instructor  and  ripe  scholar,  though  it  were  not  an  easy 
task  to  estimate  their  extent.  We  claim  not  for  his  tomb,  only  the  sphere 
and  the  cylinder  which  decorated  that  of  Archimedes — we  speak  of  the 
whole  moral  influence  of  his  life  and  labors — as  a  christian  minister,  an 
enlightened  and  active  patriot — as  one  who  conscientiously  fulfilled  all  the 
duties  binding  him  as  a  man  and  a  Christian  ;  we  claim  to  write  upon  his 
tomb  the  proud  but  safe  defiance — "  Uhi  loj^sus?'^  The  relation  in  which 
Dr.  Caldwell  stood  towards  a  great  part  of  the  youth  of  his  day,  will 
justify  us  in  inviting  the  attention  of  our  younger  readers  to  a  brief  consid- 
eration of  the  principles  of  that  moral  strength,  which  Dr.  Caldwell 
exerted  with  such  salutary  power  on  all  who  came  within  his  influence, 
and  in  endeavoring  to  draw  from  thence  some  lesson  of  wisdom  or  motive 
to  exertion.  In  allusion  to  the  little  knowledge  which  we  possess  of  the 
early  studies  of  the  illustrious  Newton,  Fontenelle  applied  to  him  the  idea 
of  the  Ancients  respecting  the  unknown  source  of  the  river  Nile :  "  No 
one  has  ever  looked  upon  the  Nile  in  its  feebleness  and  infancy."  But 
we  have  been  more  favored.     That  magnificent  stream  which  fertilized 


67  ' 

and  blessed  our  borders  for  so  many  years,  we  have  just  been  tracin^i^  up 
to  its  youngest  and  freshest  fountains,  and  it  is  permitted  us  to  draw  from 
thence,  new  draughts  of  instruction  and  delight.  As  in  his  maturer 
years,  Dr.  Caldwell  was  the  guide  and  governor  of  young  men,  so,  in  his 
youth,  he  should  be  their  example.  They  should  learn  that  it  was  in  his 
early  life,  that  his  character,  in  its  great  outlines,  was  irrevocably  fixed  • 
that  the  honest,  candid,  generous  and  open-hearted  boy  ^'  foreshowed  the 
man"  who  brought  to  the  engagements  and  occupations  of  after  life,  the 
same  ennobling  principles. 

His  example  confirms,  what  the  example  of  thousands  teaches  us,  that 
it  is  not  by  sudden  and  solitary  acts  of  volition  that  men  prepare  them- 
selves to  become  conspicuous,  in  either  good  or  evil ;  but  by  a  discipline 
commencing  in  childhood,  and  continuing  through  youth  far  into  maturer 
life.  If  it  may  be  permitted  us  to  look  into  the  elements  of  that  mighty 
intellect  which  has  been  prolific  of  such  momentous  results — into  the 
'^altse  penetralia  mentis"  befoie  which  we  bow  with  such  reverence  and 
admiration — we  would  say  that  Dr.  Caldwell  was  not  indebted  in  any  ex- 
traordinary degree  to  the  bounty  of  Nature,  for  the  extent  and  perfection 
of  his  large  mental  acquirements.  To  patient  and  persevering  industry 
his  youth  was  indebted  for  that  wide  and  solid  foundation,  on  which  the 
patient  and  persevering  industry  of  manhood  reared  so  noble  a  superstruc- 
ture. But  that  which  we  have  ever  esteemed  the  great  primary  element 
of  his  intellectual  excellence,  was  the  perfect  accuracy  which  he  gave  to  his 
every  mental  acquisition.  However  slow,  a  strict  regard  to  this  funda- 
mental quality  might  make  his  progress  appear,  it  was  never  sacrificed  to 
the  whispers  of  indolence,  nor  to  the  murmurs  of  impatience.  Whatever 
progress  was  made,  though  it  were  slow  and  painful  at  first,  the  ground 
was  thoroughly  conquered,  and  every  outpost  fully  occupied ;  nothing 
was  left  unfinished  to  annoy  him  by  the  necessity  of  constant  retrospec- 
tion, nor  to  impede  his  onward  march  by  a  sense  of  insecurity  and  doubt. 
Nor  is  the  eventual  flight  of  a  mind,  thus  solicitous  about  the  accuracy 
and  perfection  of  its  first  movements,  less  rapid  or  less  elevated  than  the 
towering,  but  unequal  essays  of  what  is  sometimes  called  genius.  The 
latter  may  at  times  soar  to  the  highest  heavens,  but  it  has  often  to  stooj) 
to  earth  to  repair  the  deficiencies  of  its  early  preparation ;  while  the  for- 
mer, having  once  surmounted  the  difficulties  and  dull  delays  of  its  lower 
flight,  thenceforward  moves  in  a  purer  sk}- — 

Heaven's  sunshine  on  its  joyful  wa}^ 
And  freedom  on  its  wings. 

Nor,  while  thus  presenting  his  intellectual  character,  would  we  lose 
sight  of  the  great  moving  principle  of  his  moral  character.  In  one  word, 
the  Religion  of  Jesus  Christ  gave  direction  and  efficiency  to  all  his  varied 


68 

works.     To  its  claims  he  sacrificed  evei*y  conflicting  passion  and  propen- 
sity of  early  youth,  and  it  became  the  easy  habit  of  his  manhood  and  old  age. 

It  has  been  supposed  by  some,  that  the  dignity  of  manner,  sometimes 
approaching  to  sternness,  which  characterized  Dr.  Caldwell's  intercourse 
with  the  students  of  the  University,  Vv^as  the  result  of  a  corresponding 
sternness  of  temper.  This  injurious  thought  might  be  easily  repelled  by 
the  testimony  of  those  who  were  admitted  to  the  high  privilege  of  social 
companionship  with  him,  and  who  could  bear  witness  to  the  kind  and  cour- 
teous, though  still  dignified  demeanor,  wdiich  marked  all  his  intercourse 
with  them.  Circumstances,  easily  understood,  imparted  to  his  manner, 
when  brought  into  contact  with  those  under  his  charge,  a  certain  degree 
of  reserve ;  which,  however,  was  gi-eatly  misunderstood,  if  regarded  as 
indicating  a  want  of  sympathy  with  their  youthful  feelings,  or  a  wish  to 
repel  them  from  communion  with  him.  The  brief  glance  which  we  have 
taken  at  the  early  condition  of  our  College,  and  its  tempestuous  elements, 
which  then  needed  a  master-spirit  to  subdue  and  control  them,  reveals  to 
us  the  necessity  there  was  for  that  authoritative  dignity  and  decision  of 
character,  which,  after  that  period,  so  eminently  distinguished  Dr.  Cald- 
well. In  obedience  to  the  law  which  was  the  rule  of  his  life — the  fitting 
himself  to  fulfill,  in  the  best  possible  manner,  the  duties  of  the 
station  in  which  Providence  had  placed  him — he  moulded  his  temper  and 
deportment  to  the  demands  of  his  peculiar  situation;  and,  if  in  more 
quiet  times  he  did  not  entirely  recede  from  the  manner  which  circumstan- 
ces had  forced  upon  him,  something  must  be  forgiven  to  the  inflexibility 
of  habits  acquired  upon  principle,  and  continued  from  necessity  through 
many  successive  years.  But  who  are  they  who  have  brought  this  charge 
of  sternness  against  his  memory?  Those  who  judge  hastily  and  superfi- 
cially, not  those  who  had  the  best  opportunities  of  knowing  him  They 
who  were  brought  into  the  closest  contact  with  him,  say  that,  though 
hardened  vice  was  ever  frowned  upon  with  severity,  yet,  when  ingenuous 
and  honorable  contrition  was  excited,  his  brow  was  the  first  to  relax,  and 
his    tongue  the  first  to  drop  the  balm  of  kindness  and  encouragement. 

In  his  general  intercourse.  Dr.  Caldwell  was  accessible  and  courteous, 
and  though  in  his  usual  habits,  much  devoted  to  study,  he  relished,  in  a 
very  high  degree,  the  pleasures  of  intellectual  society.  In  the  various 
domestic  relations  of  life,  he  exhibited  the  kindest  and  gentlest  traits  of 
character  ;  and,  with  a  heart  and  hand  open  as  the  day  to  melting  charity, 
he  was  the  beloved  benefactor  of  the  whole  circle  in  which  he  moved. 

We  have  endeavored  to  trace,  though  with  a  feeble  hand,  the  incidents 
of  a  life  so  dear  to  us  all,  and  to  unfold  some  of  the  traits  of  that  charac- 
ter which  has  been  so  long  our  pride  and  admiration. 


f 
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I  FOR  USE  ONLY  IN 

THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  COLLECTION 


IHfS  IITLE  HAS  BEEH  MICROFILMED 


■orm  No.  A -363 


